


The Vessel

by ValandraEvans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Angels are Dicks (Supernatural), Angels have no gender, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Castiel Does Not Care About Gender Norms (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Dean confesses, Explicit Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Temporarily Female Castiel (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural), gender is a construct
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValandraEvans/pseuds/ValandraEvans
Summary: Castiel leaves his vessel in the bunker in order to attend to some Angel Business.  What the brothers don't know is that this business means Castiel has taken a temporary vessel.  That of Sister Veronica Garcia.  The situation is meant to be temporary and over without the Winchesters ever needing to know.  But when things go wrong and Cas needs to call in back up the brothers are in for a surprise.  And Dean is in for a rough awakening.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 71
Kudos: 130





	1. The Call

“I don’t know, man. It’s just weird.” Sam leaned against the open doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He stared into the dimly lit room pensively, the same way he has every night for the past three weeks.

“It’s still Cas.” Dean huffs, tired of having the same conversation over and over again. He makes sure to check on Cas’s vessel every few hours but nothing ever changes. Just a lifeless shell lying on the bed in Cas’s room. Not breathing, not moving, empty. But Dean will keep it safe, for as long as Cas needs, forever. Whenever he comes back, his vessel will be waiting for him. Whenever he comes back from wherever he is.

“It’s not Cas, though.” Sam continues. “Not really. It’s not Jimmy either; he’s in heaven, never to return. It’s just a corpse.”

Dean rolls his eyes. His stomach flipping at how much it really does look like Cas lying there dead. That’s part of why he doesn’t like to stay long. Just check that he’s still in the same spot and move on, not thinking about it too much, except for when Sam forces him to have these infuriating conversations. Except for the other times, when he comes and sits in the chair and talks. In the middle of the night, sometimes he comes alone and talks for hours, saying things he would never tell Cas in person. Things he’s not sure Cas would even understand if he tried.

“He’s not dead, Sam, he’s fine. Think of it like he’s just in stasis or hypersleep.”

“Hypersleep? Really? Watching the Alien movies again?” Sam snorts at looks at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

“Helps me sleep.” He shrugs.

“Dude, that is disturbing on so many levels. Horror movies help you avoid your nightmares so you can sleep? Jesus, someone needs to open a Hunter’s Therapy In-Patient program.”

“Come on.” Dean slaps his brother on the shoulder. “He’s fine. He’ll be back soon. Let’s grab something to eat.”

Dean leads the way to the kitchen while Sam shakes his head and turns off the lights in Castiel’s room, leaving the motionless, lifeless body frozen in time and space.

In the kitchen, the brothers work side by side in silence. Sam chops vegetables for a salad that inevitably only he will eat as Dean adds spices to the heating tomato sauce. The pasta boils, rolling around in the water, changing its form. It’s a simple, comfortable, easy silence. 

But something is missing. Cas’s absence is like a presence in the room.

“Why is it so weird this time?” Sam finally asks, laying down his knife and turning to his brother. “Cas goes away on his little angel side quests all the time. Why does it feel so weird not to have him in the bunker.”

“Because you’re afraid his body is going to reanimate and try to eat your brains in your sleep.” Dean deadpans while stirring the pot. 

“Shut up,” Sam leaned his hip against the counter, the salad forgotten. “I’m serious. It’s different. Usually, when he goes to heaven, his vessel disappears with him, or he just drives off in one of the cars when he wants to work some problem on his own. What’s different this time?”

He pulled out a few strands of pasta to check and see if it’s ready. “Still a little al dente.” Dean shrugged, “He didn’t tell us, so it must be none of our damn business. He wanted his vessel to stay here, so it’s here, and we’re keeping it safe until…” Dean stumbled for a moment on the words “...until he comes home.”

“I guess.” Sam turned back to chopping while Dean strained the pasta and grabbed a serving bowl. 

In the distance, one of Dean’s phones rang. 

“Leave it. They can wait until after dinner.” Sam groaned.

Dean’s fingers itched to go grab it. His spidey sense tingled. He tried never to leave his phone unanswered or at least called back as soon as possible, and Sam knew that. But he let it go to voicemail and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He twisted the top off and took his first drink, the phone started ringing again, and then all throughout the bunker, all his separate lines, even the ones in the war room used for cover stories, and the phone in Sam’s pocket ringing at the same time.

The brothers looked at each other and Sam struggled to get his phone out of his pocket. “What the hell?” he stammered as he looked at the “unknown” number on the screen.

He held his brother’s eyes as he answered the phone and simultaneously, all the ringing stopped.

“Hello?” Sam said, his face scrunched up in confusion. “What? Who is this? I… Okay…” Sam scowled and shrugged before placing the phone on the small table and pressing speaker.

Dean waved his hands, pantomiming the equivalent of ‘what the fuck’ until a sultry voice came through the phone.

“Hello, Dean. Sam.”

Silence. Something twisted in Dean’s gut. The way the woman on the other end of the line had said his name, the way her voice dipped into almost a growl, it sent his head spinning.

“Ca… Cas?” Sam stammered.

One of Dean’s hands came to his mouth as his mind spun. What? How? Cas was in the other room. Wasn’t he? Or at least his earthly form. If he wasn’t there, then he had to be in heaven… right? All he’d said was he had to check on something. Dean had just assumed.

“Yes, Sam. It’s me. I appear to have bitten off more than I could chew here.”

Dean could practically hear the air quotes. The spinning in his head moved to his gut and he sat down in the nearest chair. He definitely didn’t do anything as dramatic as collapse.

“Um, Cas, I gotta ask man…” Sam continued, locking wide eyes with Dean who remained completely mute. “Um, if your body is here…”

“Ah yes, this must be very confusing for you. I left my vessel with you as this is meant to be temporary, but for this mission, I did take a new host.”

“You possessed some stranger?” Dean spat out, slapping his hand on the table. That spinning in his head and gut moving through his body and threatening to offset his sense of reality.

“Of course not. Consent is required for an angel to take a vessel. Sister Veronica is a devout woman who prayed for help. I am here at her behest and will leave instantly should she request it.”

“She…” Dean whispered.

“Can’t you tell by my voice, Dean? My current vessel is a woman.”


	2. Simple Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean meet Cas's new Vessel

Dean didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. It was all he could do to keep his shit together long enough for the conversation to end. He added a raised eyebrow or a “hmmm” whenever Sam looked at him, but he honestly had no idea what they talked about. All he knew for sure was they were leaving first thing to meet up with Cas.

Cas. Castiel. He was the Angel of Freaking Thursday in his Heavenly Tax Accountant get-up and mussed up hair and stupid, backward tie. He was consistent. He was reliable, at least he had been lately, and when he hadn’t been, Dean understood. Castiel always tried to do the right thing even if he screwed the pooch in the process. It wasn’t like Dean hadn’t been in the same situation more than once.

He wandered the halls of the lower levels, avoiding the bedrooms and Sam. The last thing he needed was to listen to his brother try to _process_ this new revelation.

The revelation that Cas was…

No, that didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Cas was, well, he was _Cas_. His best friend. That sounded stupid coming out of an adult’s mouth. Best Friend. Like they had sleepovers and braided each other’s hair. Nah, Cas was family. He was his brother. Or sister?

What the hell?

Dean crouched down in the garage, leaning his back against Baby. The driver’s side door offered him comfort and stability while his mind raced. What he really needed was a drink. He should have stored some in here. Put that on the to-do list. But even a long draw of Jack wasn’t worth having to talk to Sam right now. Sometimes a man just needed to be left alone with his thoughts. Even if his thoughts were racing too fast to make any sense of. Even if some part of his thoughts were about how he felt betrayed. Why would he feel betrayed? It was just a damn vessel. Not like he didn’t know Castiel had been a woman before.

He ran his hand down his face, dropping down to sit his ass on the concrete floor, and stared at the workbench blankly. White noise filled his head and every time he tried to organize his thoughts, it was like someone was pulling on the back of his eyeballs.

Time slipped by until Dean was sure Sam had to have gone to bed. He hauled himself to standing and kicked out his legs to regain the feeling before trying to walk. 

After grabbing another beer, he headed down the halls toward his bedroom. But at the doorway, he couldn’t bring himself to climb into bed. It seemed so… empty. And the prospect of nightmares or worse, having to actually think about why he was so bothered, made sleep an impossibility.

Instead, he finished off the beer, tossed it in his trash, and made his way further down the hall to Cas’s room, where his vessel lay waiting.

Dean flipped on the small bedside lamp and looked down at the unmoving vessel. Jimmy Novak would have looked like this if he’d died a normal death, laid out in a coffin, open-casket wake, wife and daughter keening and throwing themselves on him. He smirked, imagining Claire ever doing something like that. Missing Daddy or not, that girl was always going to be a badass. He liked Claire. She was kind of like one of his own, but not. Just like she was kind of Cas’s, but not. 

He pulled over the small chair and sat down, looking over the person he thought of as Castiel. The angel, no the Seraph. He was a warrior, a soldier. He’d fallen and resisted and fought for what he thought was right so many times. But to Dean, he was still just Cas with his head tilt and his droll way of speaking.

The angel was always telling him it was just a vessel, that humans couldn’t perceive his true form. Hell, Pamela lost her eyes for just a glimpse. Dean knew all this. He knew it. But when he looked over the scruffy beard and handsome profile of the man lying on the bed before him, _that_ was Cas.

“Damnit, Cas,” he dropped his head into his hands, elbows on his knees. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into? What kind of Angel business means you have to drop your vessel like this. It was weird when you first mentioned it and I knew there was something else going on. But you didn’t want to tell us, so I just let it go. I should have asked, but you’re so damn stubborn. Why didn’t you tell us the whole story?”

He spoke out loud, never able to get the words right in person, but sitting here next to the empty vessel, the words just poured out.

 _“Sister_ Veronica? You’re possessing a freaking Nun?” Dean looked up, taking in the flat chest before him. It should be moving, breathing, lifting as his lungs and heart worked. It was so easy to forget what Cas was.

“I’m such a fucking moron. You know, after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve dealt with, why didn’t you just tell us what was going on. More secrets, man. Why? You should have just told me. Now you’re in some kind of trouble, I don’t even know what though, because I was too freaking freaked out to even freaking listen!”

Dean slammed his hand down on the bed, jostling Cas’s body just enough for one of his arms to fall from its place and dangle off the edge. He reached forward, meaning to just put it back, but the hand--his hand--was warm. Not like a corpse. Like Cas. The room smelled like Cas. He didn’t even realize he knew what Cas smelled like, not consciously. 

Dean took Cas’s hand in both of his and held it to his forehead. “Just come back, come back here, and be you again. We’ll work whatever this case is the right way. Together. We can figure this out. There’s no reason for you to… I don’t know, change?” 

He took a deep breath and whispered, “You don’t need to change.”

Dean talked until he fell asleep in the stupid little chair, holding Cas’s hand, head on the bed next to the body’s hip, getting the first dream-free night of sleep he’d had in years.

***

“Pull over,” Sam demanded, unable to take another damn minute. “That’s the third time you almost drove off the road.”

“What? I’m fine?” Dean sat up straighter and shook his head. “We only have 3, maybe 4 more hours. If I let you drive, it’ll be more like 10.”

“Dean, You’re falling asleep. Did you stay up all night or what?”

“Actually, I slept fine. Maybe one night of decent sleep just showed me how bad I needed it. Besides, I’ll sleep when I die. That’s how it works.” He nodded his head to the phone in Sam’s hand, “Just go back to flirting with Eileen.”

“What? I’m not… I was just checking on her.” His phone binged in his hand again and his eyes flitted down instantly.

“Riiiight,” Dean smirked. “Definitely not flirting.”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled before dropping his eyes back down to his phone, his thumbs clicking away furiously. 

It was cute, actually. Dean hadn’t seen Sam smitten with anyone in a really freaking long time and if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Sam. Kid had been through enough. 

Dean turned up the radio as Foreigner came on and sang along through Lynyrd Skynyrd. This had to be the best damn radio station he’d ever heard. A fact sealed when Black Sabbath came on. Dean turned it up loud enough he didn’t have to hear Sam’s eyes roll.

They pulled up in front of a massive cathedral and got out of the Impala. Dean straightened his black tie and buttoned his fitted jacket as he walked around the front end to fall in line with Sam as he slipped on his sunglasses. 

“Dude, what’s with you and the fancy suit and grooming? You look like a TV show about FBI Agents.”

“Shuddup.”

“Are you… nervous?” Sam chuckled. “It’s still just Cas.”

“Enough, I mean it, Sammy, let’s just get in there.”

They walked through the main gate and up the stone stairs before exchanging a look.

“I don’t even know, man,” Dean said with a shrug, cutting off any conversation Sam might think they needed to have before heading inside.

The narthex was empty but for a few tables with flyers, but when they entered the main sanctuary, the room was abuzz with activity. What looked like priests and nuns were scurrying around carrying books out of the space, while others, maybe volunteers or lower order clerics, were taking notes and chatting.

“Excuse us,” Dean said when they reached the first obvious nun they could find. She stood small and stout, her black outfit and white habit out of one of the old movies Cas loved to make Dean watch in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep. _If you aren’t going to even try to sleep, you can at least watch something of mine for once._

“Yes?” the woman turned and looked at them with deep-set eyes that gave you the feeling she saw all the way through you.

“Um,” Dean coughed. “Yes, we’re here to see Sister, uh…”

“Sister Veronica,” Sam jumped in. “I’m Agent Cave and this is my partner Agent Murphy. We received a call.” 

They quickly flashed their badges.

“Oh, yes.” The woman jumped to attention, which was surprising considering her apparent age. “The Sister has been waiting for you. Come this way.” 

She led the two through the sanctuary and then to a small hidden door behind the altar. Dean looked at Sam quickly and motioned for him to go ahead with his eyebrows raised. He sure as shit wasn’t going in first. He hated hidden passages and small dark spaces. Was this normal in churches? It felt like something out of that European Travel documentary Sam had made them watch, so Sam could fucking take point.

Dean was tempted to pull out his gun when the door closed behind them. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim lights recessed in the stone and realized the nun leading them had been talking. Shit, what had he missed now? He wiped a hand over his forehead. He was not on his game, and Cas needed him. Whatever else was going on, he wasn’t going to fuck up when Cas...

“These are the old tunnels built in the 1800s. It was modeled after the churches in Barcellona, with the catacombs and secret passageways of the Inquisition. Of course, we don’t go in for that sort of thing these days,” the nun chuckled and Sam did his best _ahh_ to keep it from being so obvious they had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

“Normally, we wouldn’t bring visitors this way to the chapel, but taking the main halls is longer and full of people, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Of course,” Sam supplied.

“Besides, if Sister Veronica called you in herself, she must have great faith in you.” Her voice filled with a kind of awe every time she said Cas’s new vessel’s name. Dean itched to ask about her, what made this Sister so special, what made her someone Cas would ditch his life so completely for. What made her more important than… Whoah there. Dean focused on his brother’s back, forcing himself to stop thinking. Instead, he kept his ears open, listening to their voices bouncing off the rocks, and thought about what a nightmare of reverse engineering putting these lights in must have been.

Ahead, light streams in as the nun opens a small door Sam and Dean both have to duck to exit.

They emerge in a bland hallway that leads to two ornate doors.

“Sister Veronica is in there. I’ll be in my office just down the hall checking on the progress if you need anything.” She bowed her head slightly and shuffled off, her small black figure moving quickly through the hall.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Dean says more to himself than Sam, straightening his jacket again.

They push open the doors and find a sparse space with a few pews but hundreds of candles on a magnificent altar. Sculptures litter the alter and floor and every free space is painted with images from Christianity, including the floor. Dean spots a few Enochian Symbols as he glances around and wonders what else was hidden in the tiny chapel.

Kneeling on the ground before them, facing the altar, is a woman in a rust-colored gown and black headdress. From the back, it’s clear the clothing is even more modest and simple than the nun who brought them in.

“Sister Veronica?” Sam says voice hushed like he’s not sure.

“Cas?” Dean croaks.

“You came,” said the deep husky voice from the phone, the one that made the hairs stand up on Dean’s arms and the back of his neck replied.

Cas stood and turned to face them. Her tanned skin and golden brown eyes were all they could see thanks to the dress and headscarf, but she was tall and commanded a presence even in this impressive space.

Before Dean could speak, her eyes flashed a bright blue, thunder cracked overhead, and for an instant, a light so bright he almost had to look away flared, showing Cas’s wings, massive and magnificent, in shadow and light. And they were perfect, restored after being damaged from losing his grace.


	3. Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel explains some things about Sister Veronica and Dean spirals

Sister Veronica Garcia knew about the existence of the supernatural at a very young age. 

Her parents died when she was 6. Her mother from dehydration in the desert because she kept giving her water to Veronica as they crossed into America. Later, her father was beaten on his way home from his construction job and unable to go to the hospital. Undocumented immigrants don’t have health insurance. They don’t have a lot of things. And their children often don’t have anything at all. Both times Veronica watched reapers come and take the shadowy remains of her parents away.

All Veronica had left then was her faith.

And her faith proved true over and over. In the black eyes and red shimmer around the man on the corner calling out to her: _Hey baby, what are you doing walking home alone? Not safe for a pretty girl like you_. In the tail of smoke trailing behind her fourth-grade teacher. She learned early not to say anything or tell other adults, the ones without second forms. They never believed her and in the best possible situations, they simply laughed at her.

Worst case, they kicked her out of her foster home, group home, detention center...

So she learned to keep her mouth shut.

The first time Veronica saw an angel, she was 15. A boy she liked wanted to go to a party, but she had a bad feeling about it and after a decade of watching demons burn through people she knew or push them over the edge into true evil, she had learned to listen to her instincts. The night was fueled by alcohol and there was a car accident. And that boy? He died.

At the funeral, a woman in a gray suit stood in the back, but all Veronica could see were the wavering blue lines outlining her form and the massive blue wings that seemed to fill up the entire field around them. People walked around her, right through the wings, and never noticed they were in the presence of something truly remarkable and rare.

Now and then, she’d glimpse another one, but she never approached. She never spoke to the beautiful angels. They passed in and out of her life, fleeting moments of divine presence. But they never knew who she was. Until Castiel: The Shield of God.

***

The candles around Castiel flared to life, filling the small chapel with heat and fire.

“C...Cas?” Sam stuttered, “it’s us.”

“Of course. I’m the one who called you here.”

“So what’s with the Pink Floyd Laser Show then?” Dean spat out, his temper flaring and having no patience for this nonsense.

“Dean,” Castiel scolded. “The first time my grace is witnessed in each new vessel, it exerts itself to be known. It’s not something I’ve done for attention.”

Dean snorted and ran a hand over his face. “Fine. Why are we here then?”

Castiel stepped closer, pulling the scarf from her hair. “I’m sorry to pull you into this. My arrangement with Sister Veronica has made some aspects of this situation difficult to manage.”

“Can you just cut to the chase here, Cas?” Dean growled, staring Cas in the eyes. His voice low and tired. The woman standing in front of them was otherworldly, not just because of the fire and wings and usual Cas specific magnetism. Her long brown hair hung in waves well past her shoulders and even with the formless brownish-red dress, her curves managed to shine through in all the right ways. All the ways Dean would make sure to run his hands over under any other situation. He shook his head. Why was he even thinking like that? Sure it’s been a while, but oogling a nun?

Castiel frowned and looked down, breaking their eye contact leaving Dean feeling unmoored. Cas never broke eye contact. He was like some kind of unblinking lizard who could just hold his gaze for unending amounts of time. Dean wasn’t used to Cas looking away. He didn’t like it. Something felt unfinished between them and the longer Cas went without speaking, the more frustrated he became.

“My apologies.” Cas’s liquid voice came out low and soft.

“Cas,” Sam broke in, sitting on the end of the closest pew. “You called us. How can we help?”

Dean and Cas each sat, speaking across the pews into the small space.

“Sister Veronica is an extremely devout woman--”

“Does she know God’s a dick who writes terrible books and doesn’t answer his phone?” Dean broke through.

“Dean…” the feminine voice dripped with Castiel’s years of frustration.

“What?”

Cas shook his head. “Yes, she knows everything. That was one of the many conditions she and I agreed to before...” Castiel gestured vaguely to the body he inhabited, only drawing more attention to the long legs and shroud-defying hips.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Sam suggested, “and we’ll both shut up and listen. Right, Dean?” He shot his brother daggers.

“Yeah, I’m on pins and needles.”

Cas gave a long withering sigh, rolled her eyes, and crossed her legs. When she intertwined her fingers and placed them around her knees, Dean felt his world shift.

“Sister Veronica is a Sibyl, it’s something like a prophet, but instead of hearing the word of god, she could see it. She saw demons and angels and reapers and every other kind of monster imaginable. She saw them as a child and instead of devolving into insanity or catatonia as most Sibyl do, she directed her energies into her faith. Because of all the things she saw, she knew God wasn’t playing an active role in human lives, but she still had faith in the strength of people’s souls. Because she can see those too and she believes in humanity. So she served humanity, saving souls, through the best avenue available, the church.”

“So she could see all those monsters, but could she see angels too?” Sam asked.

“Yes, so when things here started to… get strange, she reached out to the angels for help. I listened to her prayers for weeks, but I assumed that another angel, someone with more power, with more _wins,_ would help her. Someone more worthy.”

Cas paused and looked into a distance, a soft smile transforming her face into something serene.

“Cas?” Sam encouraged.

“My apologies, Sister Veronica, she’s assuring me that I am indeed worthy.”

“Wait, you can talk to her?” Dean leaned forward. “It wasn’t like that with Jimmy, or any of the other angels we’ve met. The hosts are asleep.”

“Usually, yes, but I find, I enjoy the company of Sister Veronica and she wished to remain aware. It’s more like how you would experience a subconscious or inner voice. She’s there, but I am the one _‘at the wheel’_.” 

“Alright, whatever. So you and the nun have a multiple personality disorder and she prayed for help?” Dean asked. 

“Her prayers went unanswered and the desperation I felt emanating from her gnawed at me. But to gain access to her order, to help her the way she needed, I would need access to a vessel who could come and go without question. My usual vessel would not be suited to my needs. Sister Veronica offered herself under the condition that I would maintain her vows while inhabiting her vessel. Vows of poverty, obedience, passivism, and chastity. And I’ve reached the point where passivism… it might not be an option anymore.”

“Wait, so like, you called us to be your muscle?” Dean scoffed. “Because you, again, made some kind of stupid deal and can’t hold up your end?”

“This isn’t a deal, Dean,” Castiel stressed his name, the strange feminine voice sinking low as she stretched it out. “This is respect. I respect Sister Veronica’s faith and commitment to her vows. I won’t do anything she doesn’t consent to. I’ve consulted her a number of times when necessary and we have worked together to find common ground, but on this point, she cannot compromise. So I need your help.”

“What do you need, Cas?” Sam asked.

Castiel stood in a slow, fluid movement. She appeared to glide across the room as she walked to the altar and pushed it away from the wall. “We need to dig here. But this is consecrated ground. Sister Veronica cannot be a party to this desecration. But it must be done. And I fear, when we find what we’re looking for, there may be a battle in which I cannot participate.”

“And we’re so good at desecrating things, right? And fighting other people’s battles.” Dean chuckled, considering starting a drinking game for every time Cas rolled his… her… eyes.

“In a word, yes. I knew this wouldn’t be a moral quandary for you like it is for Sister Veronica.”

Sam rubbed his hands down his thighs and looked at Castiel, “Ok, well, obviously, we can’t do this now, with everyone in the building. What’s the plan.”

“I thought,” Castiel shuffled her feet and looked at the ground next to Dean. “Tomorrow is Sunday, so there will be people here late tonight and all day tomorrow. I thought I could fill you in on what’s going on over dinner and we could come back tomorrow night after everyone has left.”

“After dinner, huh? So, you eat now?” Dean asked.

“No, but you will require food tonight. I can go with you.”

“A hunter, Gigantor, and a nun walk into a bar. Sounds like the beginning of a great joke.”

“Dean,” Sam turned on him, full bitch face in place. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing, I need a drink. Let’s find a motel, check-in, and hit the town. We have 24 hours before desecrating a church. I say we live it up.” He claps his hands together and walks out of the chapel.

“Cas, I’m glad you called us,” Sam says, laying a shoulder on Castiel’s new thin shoulder.

Castiel bowed her head, “Thank you, Sam.”

“Anytime, man. I’ll text you when we’re settled.”

“I’ll give you my number.”

Out in the hall, Dean leaned against the wall, one leg bent so his foot pressed up against it. He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked his head back. The feeling of the wall knocking the back of his head was soothing. The impact, the solidness of it. He could count on it. If he slammed his head back, it would hurt. If he punched the wall, it would crack and his hand would likely break. If he kicked it, he’d definitely do some damage to the wall and himself.

He needed absolutes.

Their life was lacking in a lot of absolutes, but him, Sammy, and Cas, they were family. They were brothers. They were the thing he could count on.

But Cas had his head all spun up. It was the same words and inflections, it was the way he heard Cas’s voice in his head, but it came out of Sister Veronica’s mouth. A woman’s mouth. A woman with smooth tanned skin and full lips, not that different from Jimmy Novak’s now that he thought about it. He’d never noticed Cas’s lips before. Doing so now fucked with his sense of what was a constant.

The chappel door swung open and he turned to watch Sam and the tall woman walk out. He saw the familiar warrior’s gate coming toward him, newly matched with swaying hips that made Dean push off the wall. The quirky half-smile he used to seduce women across the country sprung to his lips unbidden.

Cas raised one eyebrow.

A blush crept up Dean’s neck as he schooled his face. “Let’s get out of here.”

In the car, Dean squealed away from the church as Sam looked up motels on his phone. “This one is close, but also near downtown. Take a left up here. I’ll see if I can get a room.” He pecked at his phone for a minute as Dean followed the directions.

“All they had were two singles with kitchenettes, so I opted to spend the extra instead of sharing a bed.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “I can’t imagine how you fit on a motel bed by yourself, let alone with someone else. We should see if we can special order you an extra long one for the bunker.”

“Funny.” Sam didn’t look up from his phone and kept pecking out something with his thumbs.

“What are you doing now?”

“Texting Cas.”

“You have his number?”

“Her number.” Sam corrected.

“Right, yeah, her, him, it, whatever.”

“I know it’s confusing, but you owe it to Cas to at least try to get it right.”

“Do I though? Maybe if he had told us about any of this in the first place, I’d be a little more sympathetic to his identity issues.” Dean seethed, his hands gripping the wheel.

“Dean, Cas doesn’t owe us anything. He didn’t lie or do something behind our back. I don’t understand what your issue is. You’ve been a dick ever since she called yesterday.”

“I don’t know, Sam. I mean, we live with the guy. We share all this history and trauma and so many betrayals, us as much as him, and he doesn’t tell us about this? Why? What about this couldn’t he just tell us?”

“Probably the same part that had you spiraling in that chappel,” Sam muttered and Dean ignored him. Now wasn’t the time to try to look right at this. He could only handle keeping it in his periphery.


	4. In The Gloaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas talk, and the trio have dinner

Dean kicked his motel room door behind him and threw his duffel on the floor. Home Sweet Fucking Home. Being on the road felt good, even if he loved the bunker and the little slice of domesticity they’d carved out there. Something about settling into a new hotel room felt like a reset, like everything he’s done up till then doesn’t matter as long as he gets this one right.

But this one had already gone off the rails.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and laid it across the back of a chair before unbuttoning his sleeves and loosening the tie around his neck.

Behind him, a flutter and exhale of warmth entered the room.

“What have I told you about knocking?” he said without turning around.

“That it would require I materialize outside where people can see me and that might be traumatic for those in witness?” 

Dean could hear the smile in Cas’s new voice. It still sounded like Cas, though, just with a new layer to it. As long as he didn’t turn around, maybe he could pretend nothing had changed.

“Fair enough.” Dean finished unbuttoning his shirt and rolled his shoulders back as he removed it, leaving him in dress pants and an undershirt. “But what if I’d been further along in changing my clothes.”

“Dean, I’ve seen you without clothing before. I pulled you from hell and rebuilt you cell by cell. I know your body better than I would know my own.”

He couldn’t help but turn around then. The words were nothing Cas hadn’t said to him before, but tonight, as the sun was starting to settle outside the motel window, he really heard it for the first time.

Cas was beautiful. There was no disputing it now. She stood before him, shoulders back as if her restored wings pulled her upright, legs slightly spread. Like a living statue, she looked at peace to stand there forever. Instead of the nun get-up, now she had on tight jeans and a deep red loose-fitting sweater.

Dean ran his eyes over her shape, perfect, full, heavy-looking breasts, flared hips, muscular thighs. Every part of her looked strong, physically, and in another mesmerizing way that was all Castiel. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that this was his Cas. The presence, the stance, and draw to be close to her were the same as it had always been. But it was like the intensity ratcheted up a notch. Or maybe like he’d only just seen it for the first time.

“Glad to see you got your feathers back,” Dean finally managed to say.

“Sister Veronica has a kind of grace of her own. Being here has healed me in ways I hadn’t anticipated, and the item we believe we’ve discovered… I’ll tell you and Sam about that over dinner.”

“So, why are you here? In my room,” Dean crossed his arms and tries to glare at Cas, glare the way he would every other time he’s been angry with the stupid ass.

“I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”

“Right, like the desert missed the rain?” Dean mumbles.

“The desert does not have emotions, but if it did, yes, like that.” The gentle female voice flowed smooth and dark across the room. 

Again Dean was struck by how the words were something he could imagine his Cas saying, but coming from this vessel, this body. It did something to him, tilted him sideways, and made him reconsider his need for Cas to be in his life, not just a call away, but with him, near him. He always wanted the Angel by his side and Cas knew it. They just never talked about why.

Dean took a step forward and uncrossed his arms.

“Dean…” Cas growled, the feminine voice taking on the edge of a threat.

A shiver ran up Dean’s spine as he stared. “So what’s it like? Being a woman?”

“I’ve been a woman before. You know that.”

“Yeah, but we never talked about it. Is it different?” Dean was so close he could reach out and run a hand up Cas’s arm, but he didn’t. He just breathed in the familiar scent, the smell that lingered in Cas’s room. The one that wasn’t Jimmy or Sister Veronica, but somehow just Cas.

“In the past, I’ve felt no difference. Angels do not have genders, so beyond the physical, it has always felt the same.”

“But this time?”

Cas looked around the room, avoiding Dean’s eyes as if she’s considering keeping something from him. Dean’s seen this look before and it typically comes right before a flutter of wings and an empty ache in Dean’s core to realize he’s been left alone again.

“Don’t,” Dean reached out and took Cas’s hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just curious. Don’t leave.”

Cas nodded but dropped his hand. They stood so close together. They always did—no personal space between them. Sometimes Dean felt like if Cas had his way, he’d sit right in his lap. He always thought it was an angel thing, but none of the others behaved this way. And then it was still such a Cas thing. And Dean liked it. The closeness. The casual touches. The pats on the shoulder. Always close enough to reach out and touch, but Cas rarely reached for him, always just waiting.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry I left you in the bunker for so long.”

“You could have called.”

“I didn’t know how to explain. I thought it would be easier to help Sister Veronica and return home without you knowing.”

“That’s you’re a woman?”

“I’m not a woman.” Cas shook her head. “I’m not a man either. That’s what you’ve never understood.”

“You sure as shit always looked like a man.”

Cas nodded. “Yes, and at times I considered finding another vessel so that wasn’t the case. But that would be disrespectful of Jimmy’s sacrifice.”

“Why did you consider it?” Dean whispered, barely willing to say the words let alone hear them. His heart beat in his chest and his mouth went dry.

“Because of how you are looking at me now,” Castiel said simply, directly, just like always. Cas looked right into his eyes, the honey brown unfamiliar, but the look behind it one Dean knew he’d been seeing for years and ignoring. A look that told him exactly how the angel felt. 

He stepped forward and cupped the long tanned neck of the beautiful angel in his scarred and calloused hand. Cas let out a stuttering breath as Dean dipped his head to finally reach out and take what he wanted.

Cas’s eyes flashed a brilliant blue and her hands came up to rest on Dean’s chest. She gripped his shirt as Dean pressed her back against the motel room wall.

Their lips made first contact, and Dean released a sigh he’d been holding in for years. 

With a burst of strength, the angel shoved dean back and a piercing scream  _ No! _ broke through the air, shattering the television screen and mirrors. Cas flung Dean across the room, where he crashed against the wall before falling hard against the dresser. 

Dean looked up, his lip bleeding, and found Cas sitting with her head hanging, eye twitching, a deflated slope to her shoulders.

“Cas?” Dean whispered, but the angel shook her head and frowned. “I’m… I’m sorry. I thought…”

“Dean, what about a vow of Chastity don’t you understand?”

***

Dinner was awkward at best. Instead of sitting next to Dean as he usually did, Cas sat next to Sam, on the outside, as if she was mid-getaway.

Fortunately, Sam was full of questions about Sister Veronica in general and Cas was happy to discuss the pious woman at length, occasionally getting that far away look and adding in something she wanted to contribute. 

But Dean couldn’t stop looking at her. The way she looked at whoever spoke with laser intensity as if they were the only thing that mattered. The way she tilted her head when she didn’t understand something. The way she clasped her hands together on the table in front of her, leaning slightly forward. These things were all Cas. But this body wasn’t.

The mental gymnastics were starting to really fuck with him.

When Sam got up to use the restroom, Cas sat still, didn’t appear to breathe or blink, just stared down at her hands.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, reaching out and tapping her foot with his. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” she chuckled darkly, looking up at him through hooded eyes. “No, Dean, I’m not alright. I violated the covenant I made with Sister Veronica all because, for once, it felt like you actually saw me. Everything I do is for you, and every time I end up hurting someone.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open as the waitress approached and cleared their table. They sat silently, Cas looking at her hands, Dean looking at her.

Dean didn’t know what to do with what Cas said. How did he respond to that? He wasn’t gay. Never had been, never would be. Just wasn’t interested in the dangly bits. On some level, he’d always known how Cas felt. But it was never an issue, it just existed and it was kind of comfortable. Sure, Dean had stopped picking up women at bars in preference to spend time with Cas. And sure, getting Cas laid had stopped being a priority. But they were together, so none of that mattered.

And now, all of a sudden, it mattered a whole fuck of a lot.

But he didn’t know how to talk about that. DIdn’t know how to explain how he felt for the angel and how it was, but it wasn’t, different with Sister Veronica as his vessel. The scary part was that it wasn’t different at all.

“Is she mad?” he finally asked.

“At you or at me?” Cas peeked up at him again, a crooked smile on her lips.

“Well, fuck,” Dean ran his hand through his hair. “I guess I just assumed she’d be mad at both of us.”

“It’s complicated in here,” she sat up straighter and shook her head a little. “She knows a lot of things about me and is a compassionate woman, so she understands… how things are…”

“But she’s still mad.”

“Yes.” Cas paused.

“I hear a big ass but coming.”

“She’s mostly sad.”

“Sad? That doesn’t make any damn sense. I mean, I feel real bad about her vow and all, but we didn’t do anything that bad. What’s there to be sad about?”

“She’s sad for me, Dean.” She turned toward the window and closed her eyes.

“For you?” Dean asked, confused but feeling like he just got kicked in the balls.

Before he could say anything else, Sam came back and scooted in on the edge of the booth, forcing Cas into the corner. For some reason, she looked so small, so lost, and Dean’s chest ached to reach out and take her hands.

As if reading his mind, Cas moved her hands to her lap and sat up, taking on the mantle of Garrison leader and mission commander.

“About two months ago, Sister Veronica noticed more and more demonic presences around the church. A worshiper here, a volunteer there, but steadily the numbers were growing. When the gardener appeared to her with black eyes and a red mist clinging to his body, she felt the tug of demonic influence. This was a higher demon, not just your average possession. She found holes in the grounds, items missing from the church, and then relics which were hidden away in the alter, the nunnery, and the vault began going missing. All the while, more and more demons were arriving every day.”

“So the demons were stealing shit.” Dean offered.

“Yes, and now they have used this as an excuse to do a church-wide inventory, as you saw earlier today. Because more than just stealing things, they appeared to be looking for something specific. When a junior priest arrived with black streaks of smoke emanating from his skin and trailing out behind him, Sister Veronica began to pray.”

“And that’s when you heard her.”

“Yes.”

The waitress arrived and all three of them ordered coffee. She smiled, lingering a moment longer on Dean than Sam, giving him an extra wide grin. He smiled and nodded back, not really noticing until he returned his gaze to Cas, who, if Angel’s could smite on sight, would have incinerated the waitress then and there.

“Woah, buddy,” Dean said, holding his hands up.

Cas gave a hmmm under her breath before looking out the window, apparently content to wait until the coffee came to continue.

Sam kicked him under the table, tilted his head, and mouthed,  _ What the fuck?? _

Dean rolled his eyes, shrugged, and whispered, “Later.”

Sam gave him his giant eyes that silently said,  _ What the fuck have you done now _ and shook his head.

After their coffee was safely in hand and Dean made a show of ignoring the waitress, Cas continued.

“When you came into the church, did you notice anything about the chapel?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah, it was beautiful and felt ancient, like way older than the rest of the church,” Sam said, blowing into his mug.

“And there was Enochian in the murals.”

“What?” Sam looked up, “How did I miss that.”

“I’m extremely perceptive,” Dean said, earning him an eyebrow lift from Cas.

“It’s very intricately layered into the paintings,” Cas answered, long, delicate fingers around the mug, holding it for the warmth, just like she always did. Like he always did. “And you’re right, Sam, it is an ancient space. The stones were hewn from beneath the church. The site of which is ancient, older than humans have history for. There are layers of rock and sediment going back all the way to the time of the first people there. The power in that place is immense. It contributed to my regeneration, in combination with Sister Veronica’s flare of divinity. And I’m only one angel who did not do much of anything but enter the space. You can imagine how much power it must contain. The combination of the chapel’s placement, it’s design, and the presence of the demons cannot be a coincidence.”

“You think there’s something hidden there. Something angelic?”

“No, Sam. I think there’s a weapon of heaven here, something that’s been lost for eons. And under no circumstances can we allow demons to get their hands on it.


	5. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas can't stay and Dean can't bear to be alone.

Cas rode with the brothers back to the motel in relative silence. They talked through plans and speculated on how many demons and what kind of wards they might need to put up. The type of tactical planning Cas was usually very engaged in. But every time Dean looked back, the angel was looking out the window, that sad, serene look on her face.

Sam went straight to his room after giving Dean a distinct “fix this” look but didn’t say anything other than pulling Cas into a hug.

“Do you have to go right back?” Dean said, opening the door to his room.

“No, but I don’t think it would be wise for me to stay here,” Cas said, following him inside.

“Why not?” Dean asked, face scrunched in confusion.

Cas gestured to the broken television and Dean shaped hole in the wall behind them. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to tempt Sister Veronica’s patience.”

“Yeah,” Dean reached back and gripped the back of his neck. “Then, I guess…”

Before he could finish, the air disappeared from the room for a moment, a vacuum with only the distant sound of flapping of wings.

“Fuck.” Dean didn’t even have Cas’s number. He could ask Sam for it, but that would be weird and invite more questions than he wanted to deal with. But he wanted to talk, or not talk, but be with Cas.

“Shit!” He kicked the wall, his boot taking the brunt of the impact.

He wanted to get a drink, more than one, somewhere closer to about 20, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and leave. He didn’t… He didn’t want to disappoint Cas. And what was that? Since when did he care about that or Cas’s little hissy fit of jealousy with that waitress. That was nuts.

Or was it? Hadn’t he always clenched up when Dean flirted or managed to connect with someone? Hadn’t he always avoided the topic of Dean and sex and women? Dean had just thought he was a prude, or maybe angels were asexual. But now, it didn’t seem like that was the issue. That kiss, even though he barely touched his lips to Cas’s, haunted him. His skin felt alive just at the thought of it.

He hopped into the shower, figuring this and a movie would be enough, and then maybe he’d be able to sleep for a few hours. He sudsed up his hair and rubbed the motel shampoo into his armpits and body, taking a moment to tug on his cock. That was always an excellent way to pass the time.

But as soon as he did, Cas popped into his mind. The way her breath had hitched right before Dean had kissed her. What would she have tasted like? What would she have felt like beneath him?

He shook his head, pulling his hand away. If she hadn’t consented to a simple kiss, Sister Veronica certainly wouldn’t be happy about him doing this. He soaked under the hot water, wanting to clear his mind, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t get Cas out of his head. Either one of them, or either body? Fuck, this was way more than a guy like him was supposed to get his brain around. He knew how to do two things well, and one of them was off the table. Now all he wanted to do was pick a fight, let out some of this tension. He turned off the hot water and toweled off, pulling on his jears and a few shirts. 

As he was about to grab his keys, his phone rang.

“Yeah, what?” He answered brusquely, intending to do some damage to his liver and if he was lucky, somebody’s face.

“Hello, Dean.” A low voice, scratchy from disuse, said into the phone.

Dean felt the world drop away beneath him. He wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted. It was Cas. His Cas. And the sound of his voice was like heaven and hell all at once. It was the only thing he wanted but something he didn’t think he could ever have.

“Don’t do this,” Cas said quietly. “I can feel your… longing. Please, don’t hurt yourself.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Dean admitted in a rush, dropping to the end of the bed.

“Talk to me.”

Dean snorted, “Right, ‘cause that’s our power move. Talking. We’re super good at that.”

“You are.”

“No, Cas, I talk a lot, but I never really say much.” Dean ran a hand through his still-damp hair and scrunched his eyes closed. There was so much he wanted to talk about. He needed to say so much, but the air pressure in the room was too low and he could barely breathe.

“You do in your prayers, and you did when you would come sit with me in my room at night.”

“You heard that?”

“Yes. I left a piece of my grace in the body so I would know where to return when the time came, and I heard everything you said.”

Dean tried to swallow, his mouth dry, his leg shaking with the need to move, fuck, kill, whatever came first was fine with him. “That was private.”

“I’m sorry. I assumed since you were speaking to me, I was allowed to be in on the secrets.” Cas’s deep voice gave a low chuckle. He was teasing.

“Wait, why are you calling me. Why are you…  _ you. _ ”

“I thought this might be easier for you. I can return to Sister Veronica at any time, but it felt like we had things left to discuss, without her or her restrictions.”

“Oh.” 

They were silent for a while. Dean nodded a few times and pulled a bottle of water out of his duffel. The quiet stretched, but as usual, it was easy, simple. There was no reason to rush.

“Can you flap on over then? Maybe this would be easier if we could sit together.” Dean said in a rush, the words betraying his need to see Cas were painful to get out.

“No. I’m sorry. It takes a good bit of energy to inhabit a different vessel and I need to protect Sister Veronica tomorrow. If I flew to you, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have enough energy to return to her in time and be at full power.”

“Oh.”

“But I like hearing your voice. I’d like it if you talked.”

“I know you would, Cas, but what the hell am I supposed to say?”

“Whatever you want. What did you want to talk about earlier? I wanted to stay, please don’t think I didn’t. But the temptation was too great.”

“The temptation...”

“To break Sister Veronica’s vows. She deserves better than that.”

“Her vow of chastity,” Dean growled.

“Yes, Dean. Her vow of chastity. If I stayed alone with you, I could not guarantee her that I wouldn’t compromise her values again.”

Dean hissed in a breath, his lungs over-inflating, feeling like he was going to float away into the sky. “Cas,” he sighed. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

He could almost hear Cas shrugging over the phone line. “It’s how I feel.”

Dean sipped his water and stared at the ceiling. “Why don’t you talk for once.”

“I can do that.” Cas coughed and cleared his voice. Dean could hear rustling in the background. 

“Why is Sister Veronica sad for you?” Dean blurted out, the weight of the look on Cas’s face when she’d said that finally breaking Dean’s resolve.

“Oh. Well. Perhaps I finally understand what you mean about privacy. I think that is… not for you.”

“Okay, I won’t ask about her. Why are you sad, Cas? I can see it in your eyes and the way you wouldn’t look at me today.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. I know you.”

“Do you, Dean?” Cas’s voice was stronger and suddenly had an underpinning of desperation to it. A sound Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. The angel rarely lost his cool and this strangled sound coming through the phone was something completely new and heartbreaking.

“I thought I did. I think I do. Cas, what is going on? I’m over what happened with Billy, I know I was a dick, but I’m scared. Killing her will has  _ cosmic _ consequences, and I don’t want you… I can’t handle it if you…”

The silence sat on the line, like a bird waiting to be electrocuted by the words Dean wasn’t saying.

Cas finally takes pity on him and says. “Sister Veronica thinks you get so mad at me because you are afraid.” 

“I know you can handle yourself,  _ Angel of the Lord _ ,” Dean chuckled.

“Not afraid for me. Afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Dean scoots back to the head of the bead and leans back against the headboard, settling in for what he hoped wasn’t going to be a fight. “And I thought you weren’t going to tell me about her.”

“I’m certain she wouldn’t mind.”

“Ok, well, I’m not afraid of you. I’ve taken your beatings before.”

Cas took in a sharp breath. “Afraid that I’ll leave. That all this is really about that. That you’re mad about Billy because you’re scared, and you’re mad now because I left without telling you where I was going. Dean, I’m not going to leave you.”

“Except you always do.” Dean pinched his brow and closed his eyes, fighting to get the words out. “I’ve watched you die so many times, Cas. I can’t go through it again. I can’t. If something happens because of what happened with Billie or if you just disappear on me again… It would kill me.”

“I understand that now. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if you do understand. Cas, I can’t live without you. I… Do you remember purgatory? I searched and searched and prayed to you and you never came to me.” Dean fell silent, his shoulders hunched forward in defeat.

“I understand now that my leaving brings up old pain. That caring about me makes you susceptible to that pain. That your father…”

“This isn’t about my father.” Dean sat up straighter, a jolt of fear running down his spine.

“You can’t lie to me about this, Dean. You can lie to yourself if you need to, but remember, I heard your stories.”

_ Did I ever tell you I was only ten the first time my Dad left us? Yeah, and if I was ten, Sam was 6. Six fucking years old. What was I supposed to do with a six-year-old? We didn’t have toys like other kids and were stuck in a run-down motel. I had to keep him inside the whole time because it wasn’t safe for Sam out by the highway. I hardly ate so there’d be enough money for Sam to have something to dinner every night. That was the story of my fucking life. Dad gets a call from someone more important than us and he leaves. We never knew if this would be the last time we saw him. And Sam, he was a baby, and I didn’t get to be a kid. And every time he walked out that door, I was terrified that I’d never see him again, that this would be the time he died and our life, shitty as it was, ended.  _

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s not?”

“No, you aren’t John.”

“But you care about me. And caring about me means you’re open to being hurt.”

“Cas, you hurt me all the fucking time. That’s what the problem is. It’s that I can’t trust you. I can’t rely on you. Your heart is always in the right place and you’re so good but you fuck up everything you touch and I’m just waiting for the day that I’m the one who gets broken.”

“Oh…”

“Sister Veronica didn’t have any advice for you about that?” Dean sneered, his anger surfacing and taking on steam. “What about your cagey little angel ass sneaking around all the time, talking to the other angels behind our backs, going on these little missions with barely more than a text and no information about where you’re going or what you’re doing or who you’ll even fucking  _ be _ .”

Dean stood and paced. He was working up his frustration now, all the lies, all the secrets, all the fucking pain. “And now this Cas? You act like you’re going to call me on my bullshit when you  _ knew _ what you showing up here as her would do to me. You knew. You said yourself you thought about taking a female host before. Because you knew.”

He ran out of steam and sat on the floor, leaning his head back on the bed. Tears came to his eyes and he bat them away with the heel of his hands. Shit, what was this about? 

“Yes, I knew, which is why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you involved but I need help.”

“And I’m a good little soldier who you know you can call in and put through hell just to get the job done, right?”

“Dean, I’m not your father.”

_ I’ve never told Sam, you know, the shit I’ve been telling you here. Good thing you won’t remember any of it. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you. I guess part of me always just assumed your feathery ass already knows all of this, so it feels good just to say it and not have it be weird. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you any of it before now. Because the big secret is I’m not a soldier. I’m not a warrior like you. I never wanted to be. I just wanted my mom back and for my Dad to want anything to do with me. With him, he was either training me, beating me, or leaving me. And the lines got really fucking blurred between those things. If Sam fell at the playground and got a scraped knee, I had welts on my back for weeks. If there wasn’t enough food, Dad and Sam ate, and I chewed on ice. If I wasn’t fast enough on the draw or made a mistake on a hunt, I’d be the one screaming. If there wasn’t enough money, I was the one on my knees in the truckstop handing over the cash to my father.  _

“What can I do? What can I do to prove to you that I never want to hurt you? That I didn’t do any of these things to make you feel abandoned. I would like to make things right if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t know, Cas. It feels different now. After getting thrown across the room earlier.”

“That was Sister Veronica. Not me.” Castiel paused, his low voice, “I wanted nothing more than to pull you closer.”

Dean’s breath hitched. “I…”

“Tell me what to do. Please.”

Dean shut his eyes, held his breath for as long as he could stand it and then exhaled the words they both needed him to say. “Come here. We’ll keep Sister Veronica safe together, I promise, and if you need to be with her, we can put your… vessel… here in my room. But please, be here with me.”

And with a warm breath and a flutter that made the hair on the nape of Dean’s neck stand up, Cas stood before him, with his blue eyes and dark hair and those full lips Dean can no longer pretend he’d never noticed before.


	6. Impetus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas make headway

Cas crouched down in front of Dean, who still sat on the floor leaning up against the bed.

“You’re here,” Dean sighed.

“Of course, you asked me to come. I always come when you call.”

“Not always.” Dean was not proud of how much that sounded like a pout.

Cas moved to sit next to Dean; his trenchcoat flared out around him. “I wanted to. But I didn’t know how you would react. It felt safer to talk on the phone.”

“Because you wouldn’t have to look at me?” Dean bowed his head and turned away.

“No, because I didn’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes that I was… this… again.” He gestured to his vessel.

Dean just nodded without looking up. The fact was he wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he was. He was just happy to have Cas here with him.

“I’m glad you’re here, man.” Dean finally said.

“Yes. Buddy. Man. Brother. That’s what you’re glad I am.” Cas ground out.

Dean sat up straighter and turned toward the angel. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you even see me?” Cas asked, his blue eyes dark in the dim light of the hotel room. His full lips so close Dean could just lean in and run his tongue along the lower one. He could smell Cas, the unique, unidentifiable rightness of Cas, in the room.

“I see you. You’re right here,” Dean chuckled nervously, but Cas stood in an angry huff. He stepped away from Dean and wrenched his trench coat off, loosening his tie. A display of physical frustration Dean had never seen before.

“Right there,” Cas pointed at the wall next to the door to the motel room. “Right there, you pushed me against that wall and challenged my resolve in ways I’ve never experienced. In eons, no one has tempted me like you did,  _ right there.  _ And now you presume to call me ‘man’ like we’re on some human sporting team together?”

“Cas, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“By what. Use your full vocabulary. You didn’t mean anything by what?”

“Don’t be a dick, look, I didn’t mean…”

“The kiss? You didn’t mean anything when you kissed me?” Cas leaned down, all coiled fury and passion.

“No, you know I meant that.”

“Then you didn’t mean anything when you dismiss me with your placating terms of friendly affection?”

“I…” Dean spread his hands out in front of him. “I don’t know. What do you want me to say? I meant it when I kissed you. I wanted to kiss you. But it wasn’t right, because of Sister Veronica but also because it wasn’t you. It wasn’t the you I wanted.” Dean stood and took a step forward.

“You want this me?” His eyes flashed with fire.

“I’m not gay, though.”

_ When I got older, and my Dad’s sense of morality faded into pretty much non-existence, he would take me to the truckstops and negotiate to send me with men for 10, 20 minutes. It wasn’t a big deal, really, a jerk here, a blowjob there. It paid well and Dad was always impressed by how much money I would make. But when I was 13 or 14, he caught one of the guys kissing me and putting his hands all over me instead of just servicing him. I got a hell of a beating. “This isn’t for fun, boy. You ain’t no fag. You keep kissing and loving for the women you’ll meet when you get older. This is just a job, get in, get it done, get out.” It wasn’t long after that he sold my virginity for $75 and a 6-pack. _

_ When we were older, he’d leave Sam and me, sometimes for a few nights, sometimes for a month. But he’d taught me how to make money, at the bars, lifting wallets, and in the backseats of cars on dark roads. But I never kissed them. My father’s words always stayed with me. It was just work. Kissing was for when it meant something. _

“What does being gay have to do with any of this?” Cas tilted his head, confusion creating furrow lines between his brows.

“Cas, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a man. And that vessel, it’s a man. 

“But I am not.”

“I understand that. You think I don’t, but I do. I knew it was you in Sister Veronica. And it was  _ you _ I wanted to kiss.  _ You _ I wanted to stay. And I know you wanted to stay too but you’re too good, you’re too honest to do that to her.”

Cas nodded.

“So what do we do?”

“I… I could take a different permanent vessel.” 

Dean stepped closer, tempted to lay his hand on Cas’s chest. His fingers itched with the desire to touch him, so instead, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. What the fuck was he doing?

“No, you were right. Jimmy gave up everything for us. He was a hero. Setting him aside like that just feels wrong. And what would we tell Claire? Besides,” Dean smiled, “this is who you are to me. When I close my eyes, this is the face I see. I know it’s not you, but it’s completely wrapped up in who you are to me.”

Castiel exhaled loudly. “Good. I don’t feel right abandoning this vessel, but I would if you asked me to.”

“I know,” Dean smiled sadly and shifted his weight, bringing him infinitesimally closer to Castiel.

“Dean, what I feel for you isn’t about bodies or sex. I’m an angel. Those things don’t mean anything to me.”

“Cas, don’t lie. If we’re gonna lay our shit bare here, don’t act like you didn’t want to kiss me earlier as much as I did. You said so yourself. The temptation was too great.” Dean had inched closer and he could feel Cas’s breath against his lips. “Angel or not, you were right there with me, which is why Sister Veronica had to hulk throw me into the wall. Because if we’d started, there was no way we were going to stop.”

“You’re standing very close to me, Dean.”

“Yes, I am.” Dean licked his lips. “Did you really hear everything I told you back at the bunker when it was just your vessel?” The questions came out in a whisper.

“Yes,” Cas replied, staring deep into Dean’s eyes. “I heard every word.”

“Then you know what I’ve done. And it was just work. I may have done things to survive, but I’m not gay.”

Cas nodded. “And I’m not a man. But I know one thing you’ve never done.”

Cas tilted his head up and pressed a soft, closed-mouth kiss against the corner of Dean’s lips. It was quiet, sweet, almost sacred in its simplicity.

Dean took in a shaky breath. He leaned in and pressed his lips more firmly against Cas’s. Warmth flooded through his body but he was paralyzed, unable to do or say anything more.

Cas pulled away and looked at him through his eyelashes, longer and prettier than he had any right to be. “Was that okay?”

Dean only nodded, his hands clenched on either side of his body.

Cas ran his hands down his arms and took one fist in each of his hands. “Clearly, it wasn’t.” His voice was soft and full of compassion, but the undercurrent of disappointment and heartbreak that Dean felt coming off the angel in waves was enough to break him.

He took Cas’s face in his hands and kissed him, long and slow, before sucking his lip into his mouth.

Cas gasped, his hands fluttering at Dean’s sides.

“It’s okay. You can touch me.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” Cas moaned as Dean brought his mouth to his neck, kissing and licking gently, languidly.

“If you do, we’ll stop.” Dean brought his lips back to Cas’s and this time, didn’t ask permission. He kissed the angel deep and dragged his tongue along the opening of his mouth. Cas whined and gripped Dean’s shirt, still not quite touching his body. But Dean wanted him to. He wanted Cas to grab him and hold him and cling to him. He wanted to feel the angel’s strength holding him down, keeping him safe.

Dean walked them back until he had Cas pressed up against the motel wall, the same place they’d begun this kiss earlier in the evening. But this time, no one threw him against the wall or lost his security deposit. Instead, he pressed his body flush against Cas, feeling the heat and strength of the other man’s body yielding to his passion. Dean kissed him deeper, searching for truth in the tangle of the tongues. 

He brought one hand to Cas’s perpetually mussed-up hair and slid the other inside his suit jacket so he could wrap his strong arm around the other man’s waist. Pressed together like this, he could feel that he was right about the Angel lying earlier. This was about bodies and sex for him just as much as it was for Dean. The erection pressed against his hip proved it.

“Let go,” he whispered after releasing Cas’s lips. He licked his lobe and kissed his way down the angel’s neck. “Take this off.” 

Dean stepped back as Cas regained his footing and slipped his suit jacket off.

“More,” Dean demanded, and Castiel, Angel of the Lord, blushed. 

He brought shaking hands up to his shirt, slowly undoing them and revealing a muscular chest below. With each button he undid, Dean’s tension ratcheted up, desire and passion, and other more significant things swam around inside his ribcage, leaving him staring, mouth slightly agape, barely containing himself.

When Cas pulled off his dress shirt, Dean grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled all three shirts he was wearing off over his head.

The two men stood there, shirtless. The flush on Cas’s face spread across his chest and he took gulping breaths despite not needing to breathe. “Is this what you wanted?” he finally asked.

“For now,” Dean said, stepping into Castiel’s space again and wasting no time wrapping his arms around the other man’s body and pulling him into a kiss. Skin against skin, smooth and strong. Dean ran his hands along Cas’s ribs, the lines of his back, the indent of his spine. 

Cas made no attempts to hide his intentions. Now that the path was clear before them, he ran his hands over every part of Dean he could reach. He gripped his upper arms hard enough to leave bruises when Dean bit his neck. He raked short nailed fingers down his back when Dean sucked on his tongue and kissed him so thoroughly anyone else would have needed to break away to breathe. He grabbed Dean’s ass and pulled his body against his length, moaning as he ground against Dean’s erection.

Dean spun them around and walked them back to the bed without breaking their kiss. They tumbled together, a pile of limbs and kisses and desire as they moved up the bed, where Cas laid on top of Dean, slowly rolling his hips against Dean bringing shuddering breaths and moans from them both.

“So angels aren’t interested in sex, huh?” Dean smirked up at Cas before wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I may have lied,” Castiel said flatly, staring directly into his eyes, the glint of fire behind the blue burning through him.

“Hmmm, may have.” Dean lifted himself up to kiss Castiel, pulling the angel’s body down flat against him. They rutted together, licking and biting whatever they could reach.

Castiel moved down, taking Dean’s nipple in his mouth and sucking gently, licking, and lavishing love in every touch.

“Uhhh, fuck me.” Dean moaned.

“That can be arranged,” Cas looked up at him, his voice low and sexy.

“Oh.” Dean froze, his hands lifting off Cas’s skin just enough to alert the angel he’d said exactly the wrong thing.

“Dean?” he asked, waiting a moment for him to respond or look at him. After too long of a moment, Cas added, “We don’t have to have intercourse. Not that way, or not at all. I don’t expect such things from you.”

“Shit, Cas,” he moved, forcing the angel to roll off him so he could sit up on the side of the bed. His jeans rode up, reminding him of just how hard he’d gotten just making out with Castiel. “I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Cas replied, tempted to lay a hand on Dean’s back but afraid the contact might send him running. “But you kissed me.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean dropped his head into his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees.

“And kissing is, what did you say, for when it means something.”

Dean nodded, barely moving, but it was enough for Cas.

“Then that’s good. This means something. The rest we can figure out.”

“I don’t know how to just figure this out. I’ve been trying to figure it out for  _ years, _ and…”

“What?” Cas sat up, grabbing Dean’s arm and pulling him to look back at him.

“What what?

“Dean,” the angel growled. “Did you say years?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought seeing Sister Veronica was the impetus for…”

“Then you haven’t been paying as much attention as you think you do,” Dean smirked and then looked at the faded comforter between them.

“This has been hard for you, hasn’t it. Figuring out who you are, what you want.”

Dean nodded, still looking down.

“Because you were told being with a man was just work, it was for perverts you hustled, not for people you kissed.”

Dean looked up, his eyes watery.

“So for you, feeling like this, it’s something you were forbidden to do?” Cas tilted his head, contemplating Dean in a whole new light.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s so wrapped up in who I am and things I’ve tried not to think about, and I’m sorry, Cas, I just can’t help it. I am attracted to you, I am. I can’t keep my eyes off you, but I can’t  _ be _ like this.”

“I think I understand now,” Cas said, sitting back, further away from Dean. “Would it help if I revealed something forbidden as well?”


	7. Thank god for hippies

“Forbidden?” Dean turned fully to face Cas, who kneeled at the end of his bed in just his black dress pants. His body was hard, and tension ran through his muscles, making him appear to vibrate.

“There are certain things, facts about angels, which are forbidden to be shared with humanity. It’s considered too sensitive… too taboo… and it would alert humanity to a vulnerability the host would never want to be used against us.” He took a deep, shaky breath.

“No, Cas. I don’t want you to break any rules for me.”

Castiel let out a dark chuckle. “I’ve already broken every other rule for you, Dean Winchester. What’s one more, if it helps you?”

Dean reached out and ran his fingers along Cas’s clenched fist. He looked so young suddenly. Despite the millennia the angel had existed, he looked as lost as Dean felt.

“No. I don’t need you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. And look at you, you look like you’re about to pass out just talking about it. That’s not what I want for you, man. Whatever it is, I don’t need it to know how I feel about you.” He intertwined his fingers with Cas’s and gently tugged, pulling the angel closer. “If you ever decide to tell me, it should be because you want to. Or you can never tell me. That’s okay too. As long as you’re not lying to me about anything I need to know and as long as you don’t disappear on me again, I’m good.”

Cas looked up at him, blue eyes trembling with tears, “Can I kiss you?”

“You fucking better,” Dean’s face cracked open into a smile so wide it was all Castiel could do not to laugh.

He leaned forward and crawled his way across the bed and over Dean until the rugged hunter lay beneath him, hands on his shoulders. Cas gazed down into Dean’s green eyes, taking in the lines at the corners and the smattering of freckles across his nose. Cas kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment to smell Dean’s hair. He kissed one eye, then the other, and then his nose.

“What are you doing?” Dean smirked, rolling them onto their sides, so the two men were facing one another, legs intertwined.

“Taking my time.” Cas kissed the side of Dean’s mouth, then his cheek, then nuzzled his neck until Dean let out a quivering breath, the tension in his shoulders fading away. 

“You like that,” Cas said it like a command.

Dean nodded, gripping Cas’s back, feeling the bare skin beneath his hands. 

He kissed and nibbled on Dean’s neck, working his way down to a freckled shoulder where he bit and chewed on the muscle covered joint.

“Cas, I thought you were going to kiss me.” Dean tightened his grasp on the angel and pulled him close, chest to chest. “I need you to kiss me.”

“Tell me it means something,” Cas whispered against Dean’s lips.

“This means something, Cas. This means everything.”

Their lips come together and a hush drapes over the room, the dust hangs suspended in the air, the hum of the air conditioner slows as Dean cradles Cas’s face in his hands and deepens the kiss. They lay together, tongues and teeth sucking and nibbling each other’s lips. It was all surprisingly wholesome and still the most sensual thing Dean had ever experienced. His blood lit up as it rushed to every place Cas’s hands touched him, his nerves sparking with every pass of the lips. His head spun with how much love there was between them.

Castiel pulled away and leaned up, propping his weight on his elbow. “Are you still okay?” he asked, his voice soft. He ran a finger down Dean’s arm, tracing the pattern of veins and muscle.

“I’m actually fine.”

Cas tilted his head, beholding Dean with eternal intensity.

Dean chuckled. “Really, Cas. I know I freaked out a little earlier, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but shit.” He rolled onto his back, pulling his arm up under his head and away from Cas’s touch.

Castiel sighed and began to pull away, but Dean grabbed his hand and placed it on his chest with a smile, patting it before resting his own on top. The angel relaxed a bit, still hesitant but full of hope as he rested his head on Dean’s chest.

They laid like that for a long time, silent in the semi-darkness, comforted by the warmth of each other’s bodies finally touching.

“When I was a kid, nothing that happened was about what I wanted.” Dean began.

“Dean, you don’t have to…”

“Shut up, Cas. You wanted me to talk like in the bunker. I’m talking, but let me get it out, okay?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas placed a soft kiss on his shoulder and settled back in.

“Like I said before, it wasn’t a big deal to me, I didn’t even really mind it, but I was never attracted to the men I met. And when my Dad was gone, and I could pick who I was with for myself, I tried finding the most attractive guy or the best dressed, but I was never into it. And after I stopped having to live like that, it never occurred to me to be with a man. I was completely uninterested. Because outside of what this is, I’m not gay. I’m just not. 

My dad had all kinds of gay-hating nonsense in his head that he laid on me—both forcing me to do it and then hating me for it. But I don’t care. Love who you love, fuck who you fuck, rah-rah pride parade, and all that. It’s not something I care about. But it’s not me. Which has me twisted with the idea of who I am. I mean, does this make me bi, or pan, or what? Because I can tell when a guy’s hot, sure, but I’ve never wanted to do the kinds of things I want to do with you before.”

Dean stared at the ceiling, Cas running his hand down the centerline of his chest and back up, over and over. It was so soothing. So grounding. Dean could almost imagine falling asleep like this.

“May I speak now?” Cas inquired with a kiss.

“Yeah, I probably have more, but yeah, you can talk.”

“What if none of that matters?”

Dean bends his neck so he can look into the deep blue eyes tilted up toward him. “What do you mean? Of course, it matters.”

Cas shrugged. “I understand that from a physical perspective and from the point of view of outsiders, I am a man, but we both know I am not. You knew me in Sister Veronica’s vessel. Although she is admittedly beautiful, I don’t think you would have come on to a nun in that manner if I hadn’t been with her.”

Dean chuckled and rolled into Cas so they could look at each other, the angel’s head lying on Dean’s arm.

“And if you aren’t attracted to men, maybe that’s not what this is about. Perhaps you aren’t gay, or bi, perhaps you are angel-sexual.”

“Is that…” Dean sputtered. “Did you just make this into a joke?”

Cas smiled, “It’s a theory that holds merit.”

“It’s a theory that… fucking angels,” he laughed, a full-throated free-souled laugh that filled Castiel with warmth. It spread up his toes and legs and filled his entire being with bliss.

“Maybe I’m Cas-sexual.”

“That works as well. In fact, I prefer it as there are many angels, but only one of me. And you may not know this, but angels can be quite possessive.” Cas worked his legs around Deans and pulled him closer.

“I’d never noticed.” Dean poked Cas in the side and watched the corner of his lip tilt up for a moment. 

“My point is you say this means something. Maybe, if you can, it’s okay to let the rest of it, labels and fears, maybe it’s okay to let all that go. And just be here.”

Dean nods, pressing a soft kiss to Cas’s lips. “That’s where I want to be.”

***

Dean woke to banging on his door. He’d been out, completely sound asleep on top of the covers holding Castiel, nightmare free. What a fucking gift that was. All of it. He stared at Cas, his eyes fluttering softly. The angel didn’t need to sleep but sometimes did to restore his energies or as a kind of angelic meditation.

“Cas, come on, wake up,” Dean whispered, placing a kiss to his forehead and wiggling his arm out from under the angel.

He grabs a shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head as he answers the door. 

“Okay, so I did some research last night and I found some really interesting things about what could be buried here.” Sam burst into the door, talking at full steam with two coffees and a box of donuts. He set his package down and hefted his laptop onto the table before sitting down and grabbing his coffee.

“You’re already dressed. Huh. I’d expected to see sleepy Dean still in his hotdog jammies.”

“Shut up; those pants are the softest thing I’ve ever owned.”

“Good morning, Sam,” Cas said, rounding the dividing wall that hid the bed from the table and chairs. His hair was mussed up and sticking out even more than the usual bedhead he wore, and he was still wearing only his dress pants. “Could I…” he gestured to the button-up shirt hanging on the back of the chair Sam sat in.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, Cas.” Sam set his brother a wide-eyed look and smirked when Dean just shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry, I only got two coffees. I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Dean and I had some matters to discuss,” Cas said flatly, and Dean heard the familiar undertone of restraint in his voice. Until it had disappeared between them last night, he never realized how much effort Cas put into maintaining boundaries. For all Dean made fun of him for not understanding personal space, he certainly understood respect.

His heart clenched. How hard that must have been. How many years did they waste hiding from themselves and from each other?

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean reached his arm out and the angel took his hand, letting himself be pulled in close to receive a kiss on the temple. “I’ll run out and get you coffee.”

“I can go with you,” Cas offered immediately, earnest sincerity in his eyes.

“Nah, you and Sam stay here, hash out the plan. That’s what you two are good at, then just point me at what needs to be smashed.”

“You are smarter than you give yourself credit for, Dean Winchester.”

“Stop using my full name, Castiel Shield of God Keeper of the Bees Beyonce.”

“I…” Cas’s eyes went huge as he stared at Dean.

“You shut him up!” Sam laughed. “I didn’t think it was possible to cut the figurative legs out from under an angel, but you did it. Now, if you could just get him to put his shirt on…”

At that, Dean finally blushed and looked at his brother, who just shrugged and sipped his coffee. Thank god for hippies.


	8. Are you challenging me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> getting ready for the hunt and adult content

When Dean returned with Cas’s coffee, the darkest, most decadent brew he could find so the angel could taste more than molecules. He found Sam at the table, scribbling notes, and Cas sitting in the reading chair on the other side of the room, talking quietly into his phone. His legs were crossed and he cradled the phone against his ear like a precious thing.

“Who’s he talking to? I didn’t think he knew anyone but us.”

“Sister Veronica,” Sam said without looking up.

“Oh, well, that makes sense. She probably wants to know why he never came home last night. Angels breaking curfew, what’s this world coming to.” Dean tsked and shook his head in mock disappointment.

Sam peaked over the laptop with a raised eyebrow and then just rolled his eyes and returned to work. 

“So what’d you find? Anything interesting?” Dean leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers behind his head.

“Everything I can find and all the lore we already know points to this being a Weapon of Heaven. That’s the only thing I can think of that would put out this much power  _ and _ heal an angel’s wings.”

“Well, Cas did say some of that was Sister Veronica.”

“Still, no human has that kind of power without something seriously angelic giving it a supercharge.”

“But…” Dean urged his brother, seeing the look of constipation building in his eyes.

“Yeah, but something about this doesn’t feel right. Weapons of Heaven are  _ weapons _ ; they don’t heal things and they don’t call out to super virtuous nuns.”

“You could make an argument that fully powered Cas is a weapon, I mean with the smiting and the superstrength. Or maybe heaven is weaponizing virgins now. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time that temptation got the better of someone.”

Sam again raised an eyebrow, this time with a squint. “You know, I’m trying to be respectful here, but unless you want me to tease you or force you to talk about Cas being half-naked in your bed this morning, could you please stop making it so easy?”

Dean sputtered and almost fell back in his chair.

Castiel chose that moment to finish his call and walk over to the brothers.

“What’s up?” Sam asked, but Cas took a moment to smell and savor his first sip of coffee.

“Mmm, Thank you, Dean.” He said with a growl and the same intense eye contact he used for everything, but this morning Dean’s cock twitched with the sound of it, and he was 30 seconds from physically removing his brother from the room.

Finally, Cas looked away and faced an exasperated Sam. “Sister Veronica feels certain that there is no need for me to inhabit her vessel now that we know the location of the item. She can let us in tonight and together, we can work to identify and safeguard whatever is calling to her and the Demons.”

“So you’ll stay you?” Dean asked.

“I was always me, Dean.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, not wanting to go over this territory yet again.

“But yes, I will remain in this vessel. That way, the three of us will be able to fight any demons we come upon. Since she is a Sibyl, she can look out for herself and us without needing to take part in anything… untoward.” His eyes flicker to Dean.

Sam sputters on his sip of coffee and sits forward, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a minute. “Okay, well, that’s good. We might need all of us if this is really a Weapon of God.”

“What else could it be?” Cas asks, his head tilting to the side like a confused owl.

Sam shrugged again, “I don’t know, I’ve just got a weird feeling about this. I’m going to run to the hardware store and get everything we need to make a secure container we can ward for anything angelic or demonic and some materials for extra warding.”

“The chapel is already demon proof.”

“Oh, that would have been good to know,” Dean said with a snide.

“You said you saw the Enochian. I assumed you also then knew what the warding meant.”

“You know what assuming does, Cas.” Dean cracked a wicked smile and Sam slammed the top of his laptop down a little too hard.

“Ok, that’s my cue. Keys, Dean?”

“What?”

“Give me the keys to the Impala.” 

Dean stared at him blankly.

“Please?”

“What makes you think you’re driving?”

Sam runs a hand through his hair. “The same part of me that isn’t sure I can stand being in a motel room or car with the two of you. Do whatever you need to do to get this out of your system so you can be semi-normal and focused tonight, ok? Now the keys?”

Dean’s smirk goes full tilt this time as he throws the keys to Sam before licking his lips wickedly. “So Cas, what would help you be focused tonight?” He cooed, to his brother’s annoyance, before laughing at the door slamming behind Sam.

Cas sat in Sam’s newly evacuated seat and eyed Dean as he pulled one leg up into the chair with him. The man never seemed able to just sit like a normal person. He always had to put his feet up on something, be it the table, the wall, his own knee, something. 

“Why must you antagonize your brother?” Cas took another sip of his coffee and let out a moan of pleasure that set Dean’s skin ablaze. “This coffee is very flavorful,” He’d left the top two buttons on his shirt unbuttoned and hadn’t tucked it in, giving him a rumpled look that fit so well with the crazy hair and deep blue eyes.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting his position again. “Good. I got the richest they had, hoped you’d be able to taste it.

“I can.” Cas’s eyes never left Dean. He watched him like a predator.

Heat spread up Dean’s neck and for the first time since he’d met Cas, he was flustered enough to consider turning away from the intense gaze. Fuck if he was going to do that. He might be feeling all soft about the guy, but that didn’t mean he was going to back down or give in.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice came out so low he could barely hear it. 

“Yea?” Dean licked his lips.

“Are you challenging me?” Cas’s words drip with intention and Dean is both lost as to what he means and overwhelmingly turned on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he reaches out and grabs Cas’s coffee, taking a long swig before passing it back within the angel’s reach. “Mmm, that is good.”

“Would you like more?” Cas stands, grabs the coffee, and leans against the table right in front of Dean, his hips directly in his line of sight.

Dean looks up at Cas’s eyes, almost entirely black. The coffee in Cas’s hand hangs between them. Dean wraps his fingers around Cas’s without breaking eye contact and brings the to-go cup to his lips, letting Cas serve him a sip of coffee. His heart skips and thrums with the tension between them. Even if Dean doesn’t know what’s going on, he knows he’s into it.

Cas sets the cup down and reaches forward, taking a fist full of Dean’s hair right behind his ear and pulling his head back, exposing his neck. “I thought when you got me coffee, you were telling me how you wanted things to be, but that’s not the case, is it?”

Before Dean could answer, Cas’s lips were on his neck. Lips kissed and sucked, drawing moans from Dean he didn’t intend to make out loud, but the pulsing of his heart was now a pounding in his cock, and when Cas’s teeth sank into Dean’s flesh, undoubtedly hard enough to leave a bruise, he cried out.

“Fuck, Cas!” He wrapped his arms around the angel and stood up, pressing his erection against the other man’s hip. 

Cas wrenched Dean’s t-shirt off and pulled his own over his head before taking another fistful of hair and walking Dean backward further into the room.

“Cas, Cas, wait…” Dean panted, his mind overheated, his body ready to combust. What was happening, this was so different from last night, and Dean fucking loved it. No one was rough with him. Not rough enough. He was by nature a physical person, fighting and fucking his way through life, but other than the occasional good hits in some monster got, he never felt fully satisfied like he’d been met on equal terms. Sex was always awesome, always amazing, but it still left something empty in him, and right now, it was filling up and about to boil over.

Cas slammed Dean’s back into the corner of the room, placed a hand on his chest, and with almost fully black eyes stared him down. The angel took a few deep breathes before asking, “What is it, Dean?” The question came out more gently than Dean expected. Like if Dean asked Cas to stop, run out, and find him new tires for the Impala, Cas would have done it without question.

“I… this is…”

Cas tilted his head, a frown across his face. “Not what you want?”

“It is. I just need a minute to catch up.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. I know I’m not good at reading human cues.” 

The pressure of Cas’s hand against Dean’s chest lightened as the angel began to move away.

“No, don’t. Don’t go.” Dean grabbed Cas’s forearm and then reached out and ran his knuckles down the angel’s sharp jaw. “You did just fine reading my cues. I just, ah, I didn’t know I was putting them out there so clearly, I guess.”

Cas smiled gently, “Humans are very strange.”

“Humans are strange,” Dean snorts. “You fed me coffee and then pushed me past the bed and into a corner.”

“Yes,” Cas says like it’s completely obvious why he would do this. “I like you in small spaces. I like it when the room fills up with the scent of you. I like it when you have no space to get too far away from me.”

Dean’s eyes widened and felt like the wind had been knocked out of him by the complete honesty of it. And then, like a shock, he realized he felt the same. “That’s why I always like it when you ride in the Impala with me. Especially after a hunt.”

“I know,” Cas leans in, his rough lips gentle against Dean’s willing mouth. They kiss sweetly, gently testing out the taste of one another, keeping their hands to arms and faces. It’s excruciating and painful, beautiful and perfect.

Dean feels so much. All his self-flagellation falls from his shoulders under Cas’s delicate touch. Their chests, pressed together so Dean can feel the hard planes of Cas’s body breathe together and time becomes infinite.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Cas?” he breathes more air than voice.

“Must I continue to wait?”

“What?”

“You asked me to wait, but it no longer feels like you want me to. Please, tell me what you want.” Cas shivers, but Dean is certain angels do not get cold. The shaking of his hands and the goosebumps along his arms are due to something else entirely.

“You,” Dean says without hesitation, gripping Cas tighter and shifting them so his leg is between Cas’s. Now that he can feel the heat of Cas hard against his hip, he lets himself rock forward, eliciting a groan from both of them.

“I don’t want to upset you again,” Cas lowers his eyes and pulls back slightly.

“I’m not upset,” Dean scrambles forward, gripping strong shoulders.

“You became upset last night when I mentioned us… being intimate.”

“You mean when you implied you were going to fuck me?” Dean chuckled and then caught himself when he saw how deeply serious Cas was being.

“You became upset, and just now, you asked me to stop. I don’t want to cause you pain, but Dean,” he looked up through long lashes, “I do not want to stop again. I’d rather not start.”

“Shit man, that’s, I can’t promise how I’m going to react, but yeah. I mean, I don’t want to stop again either.”

And then that dick of an angel had the nerve to smirk, “But you’re not gay.”

“For fuck’s sake. I’ll be whatever I need to be with you, Cas. Gay, bi, cassexual, I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want you.”

With that final and pretty fucking explicit declaration, if Dean does say so himself, he manhandled the angel back against the bed, pushing him down and climbing on next to him. They kissed, hands roaming over each other’s skin. Dean traced the lines of Cas’s tattoo with his tongue, the Enochian warding on his lower ribs hot as fuck.

He kissed his way across the angel’s chest, stopping to lap at his hard nipple. When Cas moaned, he nipped at it before sucking the flesh around it into his mouth. Cas’s arms went around Dean’s back and he arched up off the bed.

“Dean, oh, yeah, I, Dean…” Cas moaned and mumbled as Dean worked his way down Cas’s body. When he licked along the angel’s hip bone, Cas cried out in Enochian and the lights overhead flickered.

That was enough encouragement for anyone with half a brain, even if Dean wasn’t sure his was working at the moment. He mouthed Cas’s erection through the thin dress pants, breathing hot kisses along the length before taking the already moist fabric where his tip lay into his mouth. He felt Cas move above him and looked up to find him staring down with the kind of look that would make any Demon with self-preservation instinct run the other direction.

“You like that?” Dean said, doing it again.

“Yes,” Cas ground out.

“What would you like me to do next?”

“Dean…” Cas gripped the comforter.

Dean leaned back, earned a groan from Cas, undid his belt, lowered his zipper, and reached his hands under his hips to pull off the dress pants.

“Okay, now what,” Dean laid back down, peppering kissing along the waistband of Cas’s pristine white boxers. He licked and nibbled at the hip, savoring the anguished moans coming from above him.

“You like to watch, don’t you,” Dean looked up, Cas still leaning back against his hands.

“Yes.”

“Move back.” Dean directed Cas so he leaned against the pillows and headboard. He came in for another searing kiss, but Cas’s hips didn’t stop moving, reaching for him, seeking friction.

“What would you like me to do next?” Dean whispered against Cas’s parted lips before slipping his tongue inside the other man’s mouth.

“I want…”

“Yeah?” Dean palmed Cas’s erection, squeezing and pulling on it until Cas was begging incoherently. Then he stopped, “tell me what you want.”

Cas flipped them over, his eyes shining blue with grace. “I want you to stop teasing me. I want you on your knees.” He stood so quickly Dean would swear he’d flown, grabbed Dean by the hair, and pulled him off the bed, falling so he landed on his knees in front of the angel.

Cas put one hand on his shoulder to hold him in place, and with the other, pulled his erection out, dripping and bobbing with need. Dean’s mouth watered to see it right in front of him, warm and red with need.

“What do you want me to do with that?” Dean chuckled and batted his eyelashes up at Cas, but the angel had been pushed beyond reason.

Cas used his free hand to pull Dean’s hair again, this time tilting his head back, so his mouth opened and shoved his cock in deep.

Cas sucked air in between his teeth before he started pumping into Dean’s mouth, “That’s what I wanted.”

His cock was smooth and wide, long enough to push Dean past a limit he hadn’t expected to find, but Cas didn’t seem to care. He stared down, holding dean in place, fucking his face with so much abandon Dean half worried he was going to smite him on accident. It wasn’t just sexy. It was fucking glorious.

Dean gripped the back of Cas’s legs, holding on and letting the angel use him however he wanted. His eyes began watering, and he was filled with an emotion too big to describe. The need, the love, the passion in Cas’s eyes combined with the brutal intensity of the moment filled every part of him.

Cas slowed his movements, released his hair, and wiped the tears from Dean’s eyes. He looked at the tear on his finger and then tasted it, sucking on his own finger with a look of wonder. “Happiness?” he tilted his head and looked at Dean, confusion written on his brow as he pulled back from Dean’s mouth. “This is happiness.”

“Yes,” Dean admitted, shy in the face of his body betraying his vulnerability.

Cas whisked him back to the bed, laid him down, and licked the tears from his face. He ran his hands through Dean’s hair, fingers digging into his scalp deeply and decadently, making Dean moan. He worked his lips down the hunter’s body, kissing and rubbing every inch of skin he could reach. He cupped Dean’s erection in his hand while lapping at the muscles running down his sides and Dean bucked at the contact. 

But Cas was solid. Strong. Dean couldn’t have moved him if he wanted to. And for perhaps the first time in his entire life, he felt safe.

Cas undid Dean’s buckle and slowly removed his jeans and underwear, softly, keeping his eyes on Dean reverently. When they were both completely naked, Cas came and laid his body on top of Dean; legs scissored together, erections finally touching, chests bound together with so much more than desire. 

He kissed Dean, slow and thoroughly. The kind of kiss that you think people can’t possibly bother with in real life because there are so many better, more awesome things to do when you’re naked. But he took his time, tasting and exploring. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, kneading the hard muscles along his spine, and moved his hips so his needy cock rubbed against Cas’s with slow overpowering thrusts.

“What do you want now, Dean Winchester?”

“That was my game, no fair.”

Cas smiled and lowered his lips to Dean’s neck, kissing and chewing to his shoulder.

“Do you want to know what I want?” Cas whispered against Dean’s flesh.

“Please,” Dean’s thrusts took up speed and Cas met him, flesh sliding against flesh. Dean grabbed Cas’s ass and moaned, rearing up off the mattress. “Whatever you want to do, just do it. God, do it.”

Cas laid his hand where the mark he had left on Dean’s shoulder used to be. The mark that branded him as saved from Hell. 

Dean’s skin vibrated, the sensation intensifying until it burned, Cas’s eyes again glowing with his grace, but this time the outline of his wings appeared in shadow on the motel ceiling. The burning grew red and angry and Dean’s skin cried out for relief but his cock jumped, desperate to follow that pain into oblivion.

“There,” Cas said, kissing the completely healed handprint scar on his shoulder.

“Won’t it just disappear again if you heal me?”

“Not this one, this one goes all the way through, branded to your soul. You’re mine.”

Cas kissed him again, deep and passionate. He murmured against Dean’s lips in Enochian while they rutted together, a tangle of limbs and desperate need.

This time Dean didn’t ask what Cas wanted. And angel lowered himself between Dean’s legs and gave him a chaste kiss on the tip of his cock, making him leak and beg. Before Dean could make out coherent words, Cas had slipped his shoulders under his thighs and was tonguing at the underside of his balls.

“Fuck… Cas… You don’t…”

Cas chuckled against the sensitive skin and used his hands to open Dean up so that he could reach his puckered hole. Cas ran a tongue across the pink flesh, causing a full-body shudder to go through Dean. He took the same deliberate interest in this as he had in kissing Dean. He didn’t rush. He kissed and sucked and thrust his tongue against the opening until Dean was begging him for more.

Dean, who had never wanted this, not with women, or men. Dean, who had never imagined himself a bottom. Whatever that really means. His whole macho sense of self told him he would be the one doing the fucking if he was ever in this kind of situation. But now, with Cas’s tender kisses and thrusting tongue, all Dean wanted was to be filled up, tied together body and soul, with Castiel.

“Cas, I don’t have any lube or anything…” Dean managed to squeak out.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ll take care of you.”

And like that, Dean relaxed. Cas slid one finger inside him, slowly, pausing whenever Dean would clench. He continued to kiss and tongue the area, keeping Dean off-kilter and wild. Soon he was moaning, pushing himself down on Cas’s finger, needing more. Cas quickly added two, then three fingers, twisting his hand so Dean arched up off the bed in ecstasy. The angel seemed to find decided pleasure in seeking out and stroking Dean’s prostate, driving him well past the pleasure of any previous orgasm, and they hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.

“Now, Castiel, please, now.”

Cas slipped his fingers out of Dean slowly and easily, with no burn at all. He then crawled over Dean, taking the time to lick and nibble his way across the other man’s flesh until they were again face-to-face.

“I um…” Dean coughed, suddenly self-conscious. “I know most guys would like to do this with me, uh, turned around…”

Cas silenced him with a kiss, his strong hands pulling Dean’s thighs up around his waist. “I am not a guy, and I would like to look at you as we make love. As you said before, I like to watch.”

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean exhaled.

“Yes, that’s another way to phrase it,” the angel chuckled before reaching between them, lining himself up with Dean’s entrance.

“Wait, how... with no lube, this hurts.” Dean’s eyes shuddered away from Cas for a moment as he remembered how many times he was left bleeding and sore.

“Shhh,” Cas kissed his cheek lightly, his hips rocking forward so Dean could feel his gentle touch. “Not with me. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

“Angel mojo?” Dean asked as the head of Cas’s cock slipped inside, this body squeezing tight but feeling only pleasure, no burn.

“Yes, Angel mojo.” Cas pulled Dean’s thighs higher and spread his legs, angling himself so he could begin thrusting. 

It was intense, Cas’s eyes never leaving his, the slow, steady constant movement on their hips. Dean felt like he was being taken apart piece by piece, molecule by molecule, the same way Cas had put him back together after hell.

When Cas thrust up against his prostate, Dean moaned, his hands tearing at Cas’s back for purchase. His hips moved, driving Cas deeper and faster. Soon Cas growled and gripped Dean around the neck with one of his hands while the other held his weight.

“Fuck, yes…” Dean ground out, pushing off with his feet as he fucked Cas from the bottom. He writhed from the shock of Cas’s hand tightening around his neck and the feeling of a rumbling growl in Cas’s chest as he said  _ mine! _ In a language he didn’t know but definitely understood.

Dean grabbed Cass by the ass, needing more, his own cock desperate and so close. His airway closed, and his eyes rolled back in his head as Cas lifted his hips.

Dean moaned, trying to get away as hard as he fought for Cas to be deeper, closer. 

Cas released his hold on Dean’s neck, allowing him to finally take a full breath. He kneeled and pulled Dean’s hips up with him, slamming so hard against Dean’s ass he was sure to feel bruises. 

Even with Angel mojo, Dean burned with the thickness of the cock inside him. He whimpered and grabbed his cock.

Cas watched him with a hungry look, not the kind you get before a kiss, the kind that comes before an angry lion pounces upon its prey. 

Dean held his eyes and pumped his cock, squeezing it hard and letting the precum cover his length. 

Cas thrust into Dean and froze, all the muscles in his body tightening and jerking as his hips made stuttering rocks forward, seeking the ultimate depths of Dean’s body. And then, with one final push, Cas screamed. His eyes flashed blue, his shadow wings full and covering the entire ceiling. The lights in the room shattered and a crack ran up the wall behind the bed.

Dean trembled, unable to look away as an Angel of the Lord came hard and  _ loud. _ In the next second, his body clamped down on Cas’s cock, his orgasm coming strong with a trail of expletives that even Dean hadn’t known he knew.

Cas released his bruising hold on Dean and settled on top of him, not caring about the mess he laid in. He remained there as Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s hair, telling his angel how good he’d made him feel and how much he loved what they’d done and how gorgeous he was. 

Eventually, Cas softened, earning a sad sigh from them both as he slipped out of Dean.

“Let’s clean up,” Cas said. “I believe since personal space is no longer an issue, you wouldn’t mind sharing a shower?”

Dean, warm and happy in the deepest parts of his soul, looked at Cas with a pout. “Can’t you just angel it away?”

“What fun would that be?” Cas replied, reaching up to take Dean’s lips in his own before pulling him up off the bed.


	9. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night at the Chapel

The impala was cloaked in silence as they drove to the Cathedral, the way most of their pre-hunt trips were. Depending on how nervous Dean was about what they were facing, he sometimes spent the ride cracking jokes, but usually, they rode in complete silence. Tonight was no different. 

Cas sat in the back, lost in thought as he looked out the window. Dean couldn’t stop himself from checking on the angel every time he checked the rearview. That mussed-up hair and sex kissed lips did something for him. If he let himself think on it, Cas had always done this to him. He had been just too fucking stubborn to admit what  _ this  _ was. But he’d always wanted Cas closer, always wanted them together, always needed to know where the other man was.

Sam kept eyeing the bruise on Dean’s throat, but Dean ignored him. His brother didn’t know about the returned handprint or the bruises on his knees, and honestly, that conversation could wait.

Dean beat out the rhythm to his internal soundtrack on the steering wheel, trying to maintain his calm. They were heading into either a cakewalk or a massacre, and there was no way to tell which, and something about knowing that any demons they had to kill would happen on church grounds in front of a nun bothered him. But she’d called them, and she knew the stakes. Sister Veronica had been monitoring the situation all day, and nothing seemed different; just Demons cataloging the contents of a church, no big thing, totally normal.

Dean flipped the lights of the impala off. 

Sam snorted and flicked his hair over his shoulder. “You really think that makes us hard to find? The engine on this thing is like a jet.” 

“And that’s why we’re parking here and walking in. Plus, that way, if we find any stray demons, we can gank them before anyone knows we’re here.” 

Sam nods his head

“See, I’m not just a pretty face,” Dean flashes his usual self-deprecating grin but drops it when Cas gives him a look that makes it clear he isn’t pleased. “Sheesh, take a joke, daffy duck.”

Dean climbs out and slams the door of the Impala before popping the trunk and gathering a small arsenal in his belt, holster, and boot.

Cas and Sam get out, and as Sam gears himself up, Cas approaches Dean, leaning against his car door.

“Any idea how many there will be?” Dean asks without looking at Cas. He can feel the intensity of the angel’s eyes on him and it sends a zing of excitement through him but can’t let himself think about anything but the hunt. Anything else is a distraction, even if it’s a good thing.

“I can sense at least a dozen. Sister Veronica said there was close to thirty here during the day. Which is a large number.”

“Which is a fuck ton.”

“Yes, about 100 cubic feet sounds accurate.”

Dean laughed, throwing his head back and enjoying a moment of lightness before the fight. The dark air swirled with the momentary expression of joy, like a bubble in time. He let himself indulge in a moment of weakness and glanced over to see the look on Cas’s face. His blue eyes were hooded, dark, and enough to make Dean forget where they were, who they were.

“Wh...what?” Dean stammered, distracted by the thickening of his cock.

Cas reached out and ran his fingers along the bruise purpling across Dean’s neck. He could clearly see where his thumb had been pressing against the vein on the side, cutting off just enough blood flow to bring Dean to new heights of truth and pleasure. Cas’s eyes were blown, his eyes drifting up to Dean’s lips and then back to the bruise.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, his thumb applying just a hint of pressure to Dean’s neck.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m great.”

“Alright, so I was thinking,” Sam began as he slammed the trunk and rounded the back of the Impala to join them. “Sister Veronica is going to let us in the convent door, right? Everyone should be asleep so we can just sneak right to the chapel. The problem is how many demons we’ll encounter between here and there.”

Dean pushed off the car and stretched. “They’ll be on patrol, but they have no reason to think we’re coming, we’ve broken through a perimeter before, and with Feathers here, we have our own Weapon of God already.”

“I think that was a compliment,” Cas said as they began to walk.

“Yes, it was sweet cheeks.”

“Ok,” Sam said, moving the conversation along to avoid any discussion of Cas’s cheeks. “Let’s get moving.”

Dean took off with long confident strides, ready to meet whatever came his way with a demon-killing knife and a can-do attitude. They were far enough away there should be no demons around for a while and the cool night air felt good. Everything felt good. He felt alive, connecting with Cas, like profound bond level connecting, in ways he hadn’t even let himself fantasize about, was the kind of good thing that never happened to him. Maybe Cas was right, after all, good things do happen. He knew he was walking a tightrope, letting himself feel happy even for a millisecond. All his instincts told him this was when they get you, but he couldn’t help the smile that kept creeping up on his face.

Behind him, Sam and Cas were walking side by side in silence. Cas’s senses were focused outwards, looking ahead of them to make sure no demons took them by surprise. His grace was on high alert, needing to protect Dean at all costs.

“Cas, you hear me?” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“What?”

Sam sighed, “I was talking to you.”

“I wasn’t listening, now is not a good time for conversation.”

“I know, but I want to make sure some things are clear before anything gets more involved.”

“Yes, the battle ahead does seem like it will be complicated,” Cas said, half-listening to Sam.

“Yeah, right, of course, but that’s… that’s not what I… Cas, can you listen to me for just one second, man?”

“I am not a man.” Cas deadpanned.

“What? What does that have to do with… Whatever, can we talk seriously, please?”

“Sam,” Cas turned to look at the taller man as they walked. “I’m listening now. What is it you want to say?”

“You and Dean… your friendship has obviously taken a turn.”

“Yes, we are now romantically involved and have coupled.”

“Ok,” Sam said. “I could have lived without that particular confirmation, but yes, now that that’s happened, I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Of which book?” Cas asked, tilting his head.

“Of which… no… I want to make sure we understand each other.”

“I’m trying, but this conversation is becoming increasingly tedious.”

Sam sighed and shook his head, “I agree. Ok, Cas, I guess I’ll be blunt. Here’s the thing, you have a terrible record, with relationships, with the angels, with doing the right thing, and with Dean. Depending on the day you’re his best friend or beating the shit out of him.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Sam and continued walking in silence.

“So look, I’m glad you’re happy. Believe me, no one wants Dean to find some happiness in this world more than I do, but Cas,” Sam reached out and grabbed Cas’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “If you do anything to hurt my brother, anything, I’ll kill you. Angel of the Lord or not.” Sam loomed closer to Cas, “and that includes bruises on his neck if I find out he’s even a little less than thrilled about it.”

Cas turns to Sam slowly, possessive fury coiling in his gut. “We will discuss this further after we have the artifact in hand.”

“No, I want this clear now, before you get your hands on anything with even a hint of power, because I’ve seen what power can do to you. So I just want to make sure you’ve heard me. You won’t fuck up Dean like you fucked up Heaven and Purgatory, and a whole list of other things.” Sam held Cas’s eyes, not blinking or flinching under the penetrating gaze of the angel before him.

“I think you’ve forgotten who you are talking to.” Cas quirked his neck, his power sparking invisibly around him but leaving the scent of burnt chlorine in the air. Sharp and clean.

“No, that’s the problem, I know exactly who I’m talking to, and as much as I want to trust you, this is too big of a risk. I can’t risk Dean on whatever your next crusade will be, man.”

“Still not a man,” Cas growled, his shoulders rolling back as if a great weight was unfurling behind him.

Sam realized quickly; this was Cas’s smiting stance, his wings out, warrior of god, oh shit angels are actually really fucking scary, stance.

“I’ve been weakened for so long,” Cas continued slowly. “You’ve taken it for granted and forgotten who I truly am. But I’m not your little buddy. I’m not another hunter out here to back you up. Remember that and reconsider how you speak to me. I pulled you out of the cage. I can send you places that are much worse.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of making my point for me,” Sam grumbled as Castiel began walking again, quickly catching up and taking position behind Dean.

Sam ran a hand through his hair.  _ What the fuck just happened? _

Before he could think about the conversation any further, a demon ran up and out of the treeline next to the small back road they were on. Dean took him down quickly, his body moving like a well-oiled machine, always spring-loaded and ready to act. The demon knife took him down without so much as a scream, their cover still intact.

Sam watched from behind as Cas beamed at him and Dean came to walk at the angel’s side.

He double-timed his long gait and caught up quickly, falling into step just behind Dean on the other side. The walk to the cathedral’s property line felt like forever, and Sam couldn’t keep himself from looking over and his brother and Cas. They both stared straight ahead, scanning the distance, ready to fight.  _ Killers _ was the only word that came to Sam’s mind and it scared the living fuck out of him.

At the stone wall that separated the convent from the rest of the world, Dean took down two more Demons and Cas smote one just as it was about to rip into Dean’s shoulder. So far, no guns were needed, so no one would have heard them. 

They crept in a tight group, crouched low through the entrance and around to the doors where Sister Veronica waited for them in her maroon robes and black head-covering, wringing her hands. Her posture was perfect, ramrod straight, and her lips set in a soft frown. It was completely impossible to believe this was the same body who had come to Dean the other night, who had sat so sadly at dinner with them.

Once all three were inside, Cas reached out and took both of her hands in his own. They didn’t say a word but shared that intense gaze that Dean had always considered just for him. The moment stretched on and Dean nervously passed the demon knife from one hand to the other and looked out the small window in the doors where they’d just entered.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough of the warm and fuzzy soul melding, okay?” He placed a hand on Cas’s shouldn’t and put a little pressure on it to pull him back into the moment. “We got shit to do and it’s not holding hands and singing kumbaya.”

To everyone’s shock, Sister Veronica looked at Dean, honey brown eyes bright, and laughed. “Yes, Castiel, I do see why you like him,” she said before releasing her hold on the angel and turning away from them to lead the way.

“So far, we have had no activity in the church since the front office closed. The sanctuary is still open to those who need refuge, but so far, I have not seen anyone in there, even demons. They usually do not like to be here at night, although I don’t know why.”

“Hallowed ground is more powerful in the moonlight. The reflection of the sun’s rays creates a kind of refraction for heavenly items, increasing their potency exponentially,” Cas confirmed.

“Does that mean you’re more  _ potent _ at night?” Dean laughed, and Sam choked on his tongue.

“Can we not?” Sam asked.

“Sam, or do you prefer Samuel?” Sister Veronica asked.

“Samantha.” Dean supplied, earning a glare from all three of his companions.

“Sam is fine.”

“Well, Sam, if you are worried about these two offending my sensibilities, trust me, this is nothing. Remember, I’ve been in Castiel’s head.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to choke as Cas turned bright red. “Veronica,” he whispered but the nun just smiled and shrugged.

They came to the chapel entrance, and Sam dropped the duffel he had with their digging tools and spray paint. Sister Veronica sighed as she watched him paint a devil’s trap on the carpet just outside. 

“I guess it’s better than covering the fresco.”

Cas wrapped an arm around her and guided her into the chappel, another weirdly intimate behavior that made dean wince. Cas didn’t touch people. He didn’t comfort, or coddle, or soothe people, except for Dean. That was for him. It was special. But his angel and Sister Veronica had shared something almost more intimate than what he had with Cas. They’d been inside each other’s minds in a way Dean couldn’t even conceive of.

Dean grabbed the pitchfork and headed in after them.

After hours of digging, which, thanks to the runes Cas carved subtly into the chappel’s walls, didn’t carry sound outside of the room, they finally had a breakthrough. A hole opened up, the kind of narrow, dirty, covered in roots, and debris, and bugs, and god knew what hole that Dean hated.

“I’m not going down there,” Dean said, dropping a shovel and backing up. He used the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, earning a heated look from Cas, but now was not the time to even think about that. Right now, he was too focused on how he was going to get out of being the one who had to go down that hole.

“It has to be you, Dean,” Sam stated as if talking to an idiot child. “I’m too big. You make fun of my shoulders all the time, you know I can’t do it, and Sister Veronica is keeping lookout at the door, plus she can’t exactly take part in all this,” he gestured to the giant hole in the floor behind the chappel alter.”

“Cas, just fly on down there.”

“Dean, stop being ridiculous.” Cas had a hard look on his face, his attention split between them and the door. “There are demons in the building now. I don’t know if they know we’re here or not but I have to protect you and I can’t do that down there.”

“I hate this, and I hate both of you,” Dean muttered, pulling his flannel back on over his shirt and tucking it in. He buttoned it all the way up, wanting to keep anything from touching his bare skin if at all possible. “I don’t know why it’s always me. I get stuck crawling behind walls and falling down underground tunnels, and neither of you ever have to do it, and I hate it.”

“Stop being a bitch,” Sam cracked a smile.

“Oh, fuck you.” Dean sat on the edge of the floor they’d broken and let his feet dangle into the hole that had opened up below. “Okay, okay, I can do this,” he said to himself before sliding forward and, with a whimper, dropping himself into the black. He slid along bumpy dirt for a moment and then had to scoot himself forward feet first. The flashlight in his belt showed both roots and bugs he couldn’t name, but which gave him the heebie-jeebies, and bones.

Fucking bones.

Above him, he heard a pounding and voices. Shit. The demon trap should hold them, and the Enochian in the paintings, everyone was okay. He calmed his breathing, barely able to think straight as some dirt fell around him. The thought of being buried alive made him panic and his whole body wanted to climb back up, but he forced himself to keep going. Whatever was down here, those demons must want bad if just their presence was enough to make them show their faces.

As he pushed himself forward, his feet lost their purchase and he tumbled forward, freefalling until he slammed down into moist clay. His flashlight had broken and the space pitch-black but felt small. The air was cold and wet, and Dean sensed movement around him, although he couldn’t imagine from what. He gave out a shiver as his mind started over the possible options, and he didn’t like one single fucking one of them. He felt around on the floor and he tried to find the other part of his flashlight, but it was gone. 

“Cas,” he prayed, “I found something, but I don’t know what and I can’t see anything. I fell far enough I don’t think I can get back out. Can you hone in on my prayer? If you can, get down here. It’s dark as fuck, and I… I need your help.”

Dean felt more than heard Cas arrive. The air blew around him, clearing the stale, musty odor and bringing close the clean, fresh smell of Cas.

The flashlight flicked on. “I have to get back,” he said, slightly short of breath.

“What’s going on?”

“The wards aren’t holding. The demons are breaking through the walls, ripping the stones out with their bare hands. These aren’t low-level demons, Dean, and I suspect more are on the way. Opening up the tunnel to this place seems to have enraged them. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Shit,” Dean took in Cas’s rumpled coat and far away eyes. “Ok, I’ll call you when I find something.”

Cas nodded and was gone. 

Dean looked around the room. It was a small circular space, like a chappel’s mirror image, but there were no doors and no alter. He felt around the clay walls, searching for any kind of break in the solid structure or hint as to what he was supposed to find. He moved slowly, up and down the walls, feeling every part he could reach until finally, slick, moist mud came away red in his hands. And then more. The divet he’d discovered was wetter than the rest of the wall. He dug his fingers in, the clay coming away easily until he was clawing out fistfuls of the stuff.

Eventually, he had an opening about 3 feet wide and 4 feet tall that opened up into another… oh fuck… another fucking tunnel. Dean sighed and hauled himself up into the opening which had been covered up but not filled in. He commando crawled another 20 feet or so, red clay soaking in his clothing and matting down his hair.

Squinting with his flashlight, he saw something ahead of them. Something wooden. The further he went, the harder it was to crawl. The passageway had sigils carved into bones and buried in the clay around him.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” he muttered, forcing himself through the magical barriers until he was panting with exertion. 

Overhead he heard a boom and the world shook.

“Dean!” Cas cried out behind him, back down in the main room.

“I’ve got something!” he said, reaching out, grabbing the wooden box, pulling it tight against his chest.

A crash broke out overhead and Dean closed his eyes as a flash of light filled the tunnel.

When he opened them again, he was on the war room floor back at the bunker. Sam was doubled over, blood pouring from his forehead and arm, his shirt sliced open. Cas shoved Sister Veronica into a chair where she looked like she might throw up. And Cas was majestic. The vessel bloody and out of breath but his eyes electric and the ferocious tension in his body not yet relaxed from the height of battle.

“What… What did you find?” Sam finally asked. 

Dean sat up, wet and stained red, and finally looked at the rectangular box in his hand. It was wooden with sigils inlaid in what he could only assume was carved bone. Sigils he’d never seen before. He looked up at Cas, who let out a heavy breath.

“It can’t be…” he said, dropping to his knees. “Whatever happens, this can’t be allowed to fall into the hands of heaven or hell. Whatever it takes.”


	10. Sister Veronica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the bunker

“Cas, what are you talking about?” Dean set the box down and reached for his angel.

“No, no, stop, you have to. Keep it away from me.”

“The box?” Dean asked, scooping it back up and pulling himself to standing as Cas kneeled on the floor panting.

“What is it?” Sam demanded. “What are we dealing with here? What is it doing to you?”

“I can hardly think,” Cas covered his ears with his hands, then without warning, his eyes glowed an intense white, filling the room with the screeching howl of his true voice.

Sam fell to the ground in the fetal position, curling up to protect his head and dean backed away, stumbling on the stairs, still holding the box in his arms. 

Only Sister Veronica was unaffected. Dean watched in a daze as the woman rushed to Cas’s side and pulled him into her arms, wrapping him up against her chest as she screamed over the sound of his keening. The bulbs above flashed and burst, and Cas looked like he was struggling in her arms, but that’s not possible because there was no way a mere human could restrain an angel intent on doing something.

When Cas stopped wailing is unclear. Dean’s ears rang for so long during and after the outburst. He thought his eyes might pop. He’d born it better than his brother, though, who had a trickle of blood pouring out of one ear.

“Can you do that, Dean?” Sister Veronica was asking him, making intense, direct eye contact while holding a near-catatonic Castiel.

Dean shook his head. He should be the one holding his angel. He should be the one offering comfort during whatever was going on. But right now, the nun’s focus was clear. Help Cas however we could.

“Say it again, what?”

“Castiel told me there is a warded vault here. Warded against angels and demons, even more than the bunker itself. Is that true?”

“When did he tell you that?”

“Just now, is it true?”

“You could understand him?”

Sister Veronica let out an exasperated sigh. "I will tell you once you place that item in the warded vault! Go. Now unless you want Castiel to lose their mind.”

Dean stood stupified for a moment. Sam finally sat up and shook his head, and while the bulbs had all blown, the recessed emergency lights had switched on, painting the war room in red.

“Go!” She directed again, and this time Dean’s brain was able to connect it to action. He hauled himself through the bunker, past the dungeon and storage rooms, down the stairs, to the recesses of the mechanical room and other unexplored tunnels. In one of the small offices, more like a chemistry lab, once used for spell research, was a safe. It didn’t look like anything extraordinary, nothing profound, but the ward, sigils, and spells surrounding it were so strong a faint golden tinge colored the light around it.

Dean walked through the protections, entering the combination, and placed the box inside. He was intrigued enough to want to open it and see what the fuck they were dealing with, but that seemed like tempting fate at this point. Cas would tell them, and then they’d figure out what to do. He shut the safe, spun the dial, and then cut his hand, sealing it with blood. Now only someone of his bloodline, which at this point was just him and Sam, would be able to open it.

Upstairs, Sam was sweeping up glass, moving slowly, but moving. 

“You good?” Dean asked.

“Fan-fucking-tabulous.” Sam frowned.

“It was bad up there, huh? With the demons.”

“Dean, it was an onslaught. There had to have been 50 of them and more coming. In that tiny chapel, it was like they were everywhere. Cas honestly did the bulk of the fighting. Smiting one after the next. We’re lucky he’s back up to full power, or there’s no way we would have made it out of there.”

Dean nodded, horrified that it had been that bad and at the same time proud that his angel had been the one to save the day.

Further in the war room, Dean spotted Cas and Sister Veronica still sitting on the floor, but now they were back to holding both hands and speaking to each other quietly.

“Yeah, they’ve been speaking in Spanish since he finally calmed down. My Spanish is decent, but I can’t keep up well enough to try and listen in.” Sam offered, leaning the broom against the wall.

“Hey, angel cakes,” Dean began, striding over to them as if it didn’t bother him in the least. “You okay? That was quite a light show. Haven’t seen that in a while.”

“Yes, you have,” Cas said, low and breathless like he was fighting to retain consciousness.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean… like _that.”_

“Jesus, can you two do anything without sex coming up?” Sam grumbled.

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed.

“No,” Cas confirmed.

A soft smile came to Sister Veronica’s face and she released one of Cas’s hands to run hers through his hair and clasp the side of his neck. _What the fuck_.

“Castiel, you should go, retrieve the container Sam made. Perhaps that will increase the effectiveness of the safe so you can return to yourself.”

Cas simply nodded and disappeared, not even a glance at Dean.

As soon as Cas was gone, Dean stared at Sister Veronica while she gathered the skirts of her robe and stood. It was still amazing to him how just a few days ago when he’d looked at this person, he’d seen nothing but Cas, but now, it was a complete stranger. Her still posture, her hands clasped in front of her, and the frown pulling down her otherwise beautiful face.

“Alright, out with it, sister. What’s going on?” Dean demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I feel we should wait for Castiel. This is a delicate matter and as I don’t know either of you," she dared a squinted glance at Dean before looking away. “Besides, you are entirely covered in red clay.”

“I don’t care if I’m entirely covered in fucking sewage chunks and scorpions. What the fuck is going on?” Fear raced through Dean’s veins. This was something he wasn’t used to experiencing. Out of control, out of the know, and entirely out of fucks.

“Dean,” Sam placed a hand on his bicep. “Maybe she’s right. I need to stitch up my arm and you need a shower. Cas will be back. He always comes back eventually.”

“Not a he,” Sister Veronica corrects.

“This is really not the time.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Isn’t it? Isn’t it always time for you to show respect for a person you love? Castiel certainly was not a he when they were with me. And you certainly knew it.” She gave Dean a stare that could wither a lesser man’s soul. He finally was starting to understand all the jokes about nuns scaring kids for life in catholic school. 

“Sam, let’s clean you up and I can stitch your wounds,” she offered.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m used to doing it myself.”

“Yes, dental floss and sewing needles, I’ve been informed, but it will hurt less and not leave a scar if you allow me to do it correctly. Plus, don’t you know, this is one of the few things nuns are allowed to do in battle. Let me be useful.”

Sam gave a slight sigh and then nodded.

While Dean showered, Sister Veronica followed Sam to the infirmary. He went about pulling out various items while she poked around the cabinets. “This is quite an extensive medical facility you have. Medications, blood, supplies. Is this regularly necessary?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam grimaced as he reached for the gauze. The nun quietly shoved in front of him and grabbed what they needed. “Cas is sometimes here to help us out, heal our injuries, but that’s not always possible, and it’s not fair to expect that.”

“No.”

“So we try to make sure we have everything we need that could come up if something happens to one of us or one of the other hunters we know. The job doesn’t exactly come with a great health plan.”

“I can see that. Now take off your shirt.”

“What? I mean, we can just cut the arm off.”

“Sam, you have a wound on your stomach too and certainly at least bruising on your back, maybe a cracked rib. I was there for the fighting. I saw what you took on. You’re a very brave man.”

“Ah, thank you?”

“So take off your shirt.”

“Sister Veronica,” he said, sitting on one of the examination beds. “I have to admit; I’m a little uncomfortable.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything, just waited, a scrutinizing gaze meeting his eyes.

“I mean, you’re a _nun_.”

“Yes, so you can rest assured I have no interest in your body one way or the other. My only desire is to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

“Huh,” Sam exhaled with a chuckle. “You know, you’re actually a lot like Cas.” He took off his shirt with a hiss as he tried to raise his arm again.

“You may have hurt your rotator cuff. Does it feel dislocated? I assume you’ve dealt with that before.”

“Yeah, I have. It’s not that bad.”

“Ok.” She went about cleaning his wounds, touching him as little as possible with her fingers, except for examining his ribs for cracks. “I can see how you would see similarities between Castiel and me. I was meant to be their Vessel all along, but as I had already taken my vows when they needed one, it was not an option. Clergy are not used for vessels if possible as we are already serving Heaven. But since I am created of the essence that would hold their true form, we are naturally alike.”

“It’s interesting you see it as serving Heaven and not God,” Sam said through his teeth as she began stitching the long laceration on his upper arm.

“God is of no interest to me, and from what Castiel has shown me, He is of very little use in general.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “It’s still weird to hear that from a nun.”

She smiled, a gentle and sincere smile for the first time since he’d met her, and Sam was struck by how _normal_ she was. Just a woman who, like them, had the poor luck to know about things no one should ever find out about. And to learn about them at a young age. “It must have been hard seeing all those demons when you were young.”

“Yes.” She said, concentrating on the stitches.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I’ve just never met a Sibyl before. I’d never even heard of them. I’m sure there’s something in our books, though, if you’d be curious to find out more.”

“That would be interesting, yes. Thank you, Sam.” She smiled again, broader this time.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. “I’m sorry, I have to check this.”

Sister Veronica lifted her hands from her work while he checked his texts. Eileen. Shit, he hadn’t told her about any of this. He managed to type out a quick message that he would facetime her as soon as he could and that he missed her. A second later, he got a message back.

_Is everything Ok? You want me to come there?_

He thought about it for a moment, heat licking up his neck.

“Girlfriend?” Sister Veronica asked kindly.

“Not… I don’t know… Maybe?”

“That’s nice. We need to wrap your ribs now, though. Maybe ask her to join us tomorrow. I have a feeling we will need as much help as we can get, presuming she’s a hunter.”

“Yeah, she is. A good one, actually.” He nodded to himself and quickly sent the invitation. It would be nice to see her.

Sam tried to hold in his groans and winces as Sister Veronica helped him raise his hands and wrapped his ribs with an ace bandage. “I’m certain they aren’t cracked,” she said. “Just bruised and worse for the wear. You’ll be fine quickly, and your other injuries are all stitched up and cleaned. You should take some antibiotics just to make sure nothing gets infected.”

“No, I’m okay. We need to save those for when we need them.”

Instead of arguing the way Sam had expected, she simply nodded.

Dean waltzed into the infirmary, smelling clean and minty. He greets them with a broad smile and sings, “There ain’t no mud on me,” to the tune of that Jerry Garcia song about bugs.

“Did you clean behind your ears?” Sister Veronica asked, making Dean stop short and then bark out a laugh.

“How about your ass?” Sam snarks, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his new friend, the nun. “Sorry.”

“Ha! Here less than a day and you’re whipped already. Alright,” Dean rubbed his hands together, “I don’t know about you two, but it’s the middle of the damn night, might actually be the morning now, and there’s no way I’m sleeping until Cas gets his feathery ass back and tells us what’s going on. So who wants food?”

Sister Veronica graces Dean with her biggest smile yet, causing his ears to burn and his eyes shift from her to his brother uncomfortably.

“What?” He said, putting a hand on the back of his neck and shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot.

“Food would be wonderful. What should we make?” was all she said.

“Um, I guess we have to decide if it’s super late dinner or early breakfast.”

“I vote breakfast,” Sam said, hopping off the exam table with a grunt. “I don’t think Sister Veronica wants to see you drunk quite yet, which is what will happen if we decide anything other than breakfast.”

“Hey!”

“I live in a convent. You’ve never seen drunk until you see a bunch of old nuns after a successful bake sale. And you don’t have to call me Sister Veronica. Just Sister is fine.” She walked out in front of them and then stopped and turned back. “Where’s the kitchen?” She asked with such surprise the brothers couldn’t help but laugh.

Halfway through his 2nd helping of Sister Veronica’s delicious pancakes, Dean’s vibrating leg and whirling thoughts got to be too much for him. “Where the fuck is Cas?”

“If there were still demons there, he’s had to fight his way through to our bag, or if they took it, he may have had to track them. We could just make another or add wardings onto the safe itself.” Sam looked at Sister Veronica, who was sitting looking at her glass of orange juice intensely. “Why did you send him to get that stupid thing? It was just a tackle box I painted.”

She continued to stare at the juice, her hands in her lap. If Dean didn’t know she was human, he would have thought she’d have stopped breathing or blinking.

“Ok, Sister, are you gonna drink it or fuck it?”

Her head whipped to Dean and the strict composure that made her one scary-ass nun fell into place. “Dean Winchester, I have put up with your language, you misgendering of Castiel, your _hands_ on me when I was their vessel, and your crass attempts to hide the fact that you’re completely terrified for long enough. You will not speak to me that way again.”

“I… Um yeah, right… I’m sorry.” Dean said head bowed slightly.

“You had your _hands_ on her?” Sam asked incredulously.

“It was very confusing.” Dean squeaked and raised his hands, but before they could say anything more, Cas appeared, his arrival filled with more wind and dust than usual, like he was literally landing in the kitchen. He appeared crouched, angel blade out, and that stupid tackle box under his arm.

“I’ve got it,” he ground out, blue eyes blazing from the fight. “And I’ve taken care of all of the demons. Your church will have no more incursions. Although the chappel is a little worse for wear.”

“It served the purpose it was intended to.” Sister Veronica stood and embraced Cas, pulling him tight against her and the tension seeped out of him. Dean watched as his eyes softened and his muscles relaxed in her arms. Part of him was just thankful to see his angel alive and safe. Another part was screaming to rip her off of him and take him into his arms, into his bed, and stake his claim.


	11. The Branch of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers, finally

Dean hopped up from his seat at the kitchen table and rested a hand on Cas’s shoulder. The angel turned and looked at him with haunted eyes that reminded Dean just how old his friend was and just how much anguish he’d experienced since defying heaven.

“Give me the box, I’ll get everything warded up and then we can talk,” Dean said softly, holding out his other hand.

Cas pulled away from Sister Veronica, handed Dean the box, and leaned up to place a kiss on the hunter’s lips. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean strode out of the room, ignoring the moisture building in his eyes. Cas was acting weird. More than the usual amount of Cas weird. More than just doesn’t get shit and has his own whole Angel language and culture to deal with us crazy humans through. But weird like something was wrong. And Dean suspected it had a whole lot to do with this object. I mean, duh, he thought. The object gave him back his powers and brought him and Sister Veronica together. Which was also super fucking weird, but Dean couldn’t focus on more than the one thing right now. At the very least, Sister Veronica seemed to honestly care for Cas, so no matter how much he didn’t like it, Dean could deal.

He opened the safe, shoved the mysterious bone box inside, and resealed everything back up, blood magic and all.

When he returned, the three of them had moved to the library, sitting at one of the large tables. Cas had his hands wrapped together and leaned forward over them, the wrinkle in his forehead, announcing just how hard he was thinking. Dean came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder with a squeeze.

Sam looked up with a tired expression. “Cas was just filling us in on what happened at the chappel when he went back. The whole floor collapsed into the chamber you found. The warding kept the sound in, but the church will have a lot of questions when they get there to start the new day.

“No one used the chappel but me. Some of the other nuns liked the quiet, but usually, it was just me. I didn’t know why at the time, and then I found out other people couldn’t see what I saw in the frescos. Part of my Sibyl abilities, I imagine. I just knew I was safe in there.”

“No, Dean saw it too.” Cas supplied, otherwise not moving. “He saw the Enochian and the layered images just like you. It must be something to do with being a true vessel.”

Sister Veronica’s seamless face scrunched up as she looked up at Dean.

“You were made for Cas? Well, I was made for the Archangel Michael. I’m one lucky Son of a Bitch, huh.”

“Why aren’t you… Why isn’t he here then?”

Dean laughed, dark and caustic, before sitting next to Cas and covering the angel’s hands with his own. “That’s a long story for another day. Let’s just say Michael’s intentions were not as magnanimous as Cas’s are.”

“Big word,” Sam whistled, earning himself two glares. “But why couldn’t I see them? I was Lucifer’s Vessel…”

“I think you answered your own question there, Sammy.”

“Cas, what’s going on with you, man?” Dean said, leaning closer.

“Not a man,” the angel croaked out.

“Ok, yeah, sorry. You look like you’re hurting. Is it the box still? What can I do?” Dean’s words were quiet as if meant for just Castiel, but the whole table nodded and leaned closer.

Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His exhale was shaky and if Dean didn’t know better, he’d think the angel was scared.

“I’m recovering, slowly, but I believe I’ll be fine soon. Inside the box is an artifact. It’s one so ancient I don’t think anyone believed it was real. I certainly didn’t. An artifact so strong it forces purity upon all those who come near it,” he finally looked up at Dean. “It’s the only explanation for how my wings were restored.”

Sam’s head shot up. “I read something about this, about divine truth locked in a box of bones.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed as Sam ran back into the shelves to look for the book he remembered.

“So why weren’t we affected by it? I’m sure as shit not pure.” Dean asked, making Cas crack a smile. 

“Not sure the way you are thinking of it. You are purely human, just as you were meant to be. Being in its presence is no threat to you, but if you were to touch you, it would burn through you with intent. No human but one has ever touched it and survived.”

“I’ve got it, here,” Sam slammed the book down between Cas and Sister Veronica. “ _ The Branch of Truth is the purest of all Heaven’s Artifacts _ … hmm artifacts, not weapons…  _ It is the only remaining section of the tree of knowledge which the Angel Jophiel smote to ash after Eve’s betrayal _ .” 

They all sit silently for a moment until Sam finally croaks, “Is this branch like from the tree with the apple. Like Adam and Eve?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, looking at Sam. “And no one, not Heaven nor Hell, can ever know where it is.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?” Sam took the book and sat back down across from Castiel.

“What it was doing to me. It was attempting to force me into my true form, in a state from which I would never be allowed to return. Its entire job is to force any creature it comes into contact with into its purest, most basic form and lock them there. If weaponized, it would make all the monsters we are used to seeing into Alphas. It would remove the Angels’ ability to take hosts, leaving us only as celestial wavelengths, unable to interact or be known by humanity. It would elevate all demons to Princes of Hell, and it would burn through humanity until all that remained were pure souls.”

“Well fuck,” Dean sat back down.

“Yes, fuck.” Cas agreed, earning himself a glare from Sister Veronica.

“So what do we do? That safe is warded every which way, but we all know that’s not a perfect solution. The chapel had wardings I’ve never heard of before and it didn’t hold.” Sam pointed out.

“And you didn’t see what was around the box: bones etched with sigils we’ve never used, some kind of ancient blood magic. The box itself is warded so tight I would think it could keep Chuck himself out, but clearly, it wasn’t enough. Even here, the box alone wasn’t enough to keep it from trying to  _ purify _ Cas.”

His own words hit Dean like a blow. That box had almost taken Cas away from him. His eyes rounded and he felt like he might tip out of his chair or throw up. That artifact, even sealed away, had been strong enough to almost steal his angel and make it so he’d never see him again. He gulped. If it hadn’t been for Sister Veronica’s fast thinking with the safe and sending Cas away, who knows what would have happened. “Thank you, Sister.” the words hurt his throat. It was so dry and tight.

“Castiel must not come into contact with that artifact under any circumstances. What we saw, it was only the beginning, I could feel his pain and the fire flashing out from the box. Spontaneous Combustion is the closest thing I can think of to what I felt, and Castiel was in the epicenter of it.”

“Shit,” Dean ran a hand down his face.

“I am… uncharacteristically tired,” Cas spoke up, looking up through his lashes to Dean. 

“You need sleep to recover, of course.” Dean shot up, reaching for Cas to pull him into his arms.

Castiel stood up and let Dean pull him into an embrace.

Dean kissed Castiel’s forehead and ran his hands down his back. “Let’s go to bed, okay?”

Cas let Dean pull him against his chest and nodded with a sigh. “Sam, can you show Sister Veronica where Cas’s room is? The bed’s all made and clean from when he left, and I’ll take him to my room.” He ran a hand through Castiel’s hair, causing the angel to lean into him even more.

“Of course,” Sam said, the fatigue starting to set into his brother’s eyes too.

“Sleep well, Castiel. I will be here when you wake. Let Dean care for you tonight,” the nun said, coming to stand in Cas’s line of sight, placing her hand on his arm. She and Dean shared their first look of real understanding. No matter what it meant or how it manifested, they both loved Cas completely. For now, that was enough.

In Dean’s room, Cas sat down heavily on the bed. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been this tired.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s reasonable that you’d need to recuperate somehow.” Dean dug through his drawer and grabbed a pair of sleeping pants, ones with flamingos he hoped would make Cas laugh, and a T-shirt.

“I know you don’t really need sleep and never change your clothes, but I think tonight can be an exception. We can play sexy accountant another time.”

Cas chuckled as he accepted the clothing, “Thank you.”

Dean heard Cas rustling behind him as they changed. For some reason, he felt shy, embarrassed even, to be changing clothes and getting ready for bed together. It was so domestic, so simple, but the intimacy of it had Dean struggling to find something to say. So he just stayed quiet as he pulled off his jeans and redressed.

When he turned around, Cas sat in precisely the same position he’d be in before, just in the silly pajama pants and a t-shirt. Dean couldn’t help himself from noticing how Cas’s strong arms bulged at the armholes of Dean’s shirt and pulled tight against his chest. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Dean wanted to kiss those lips and beg Cas to fuck him until he couldn’t remember his name, let alone this shit show of a day.

But that’s not what Cas needed. He needed Dean to do the taking care this time.

“Come on, Cas, climb into bed.” Dean walked around the angel and pulled the sheets down before raising his eyebrows and motioning with his head. 

Cas didn’t move.

“What’s up, huh? You good?” Dean set his hand on Cas’s shoulder, startling him into looking up with exhausted blue eyes. “Yeah, you’re alright. Come on, let’s just lay you down.” Dean manhandled Cas onto his back and under the covers. He pulled the sheets and comforter back up over him and sat down. “Close your eyes.” Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s dark wild hair, massaging the back of his neck and then running his hand back up.

“Dean,” Cas half-opened one eye and looked up at the hunter.

“Yeah, Cas.”

“Thank you.” Cas seemed to visibly deflate, giving in to his exhaustion and allowing Dean’s touch to lull him under into sleep.

Once Cas’s breathing evened out and Dean was sure he was asleep, he turned off the lights and rounded to the other side of the bed, where he settled in next to Cas. Other than the other night with Cas, he hadn’t slept next to anyone since Lisa. 

His heart still ached with how everything had worked out with her. He’d wanted to do right by her so badly. He had loved her more than anyone he’d ever known, and Ben. Ben had stolen his heart completely. Regardless of what Lisa said, there was a part of him that was convinced Ben was his son. He smiled, thinking of the boy now, older, handsome as sin, and driving his mother insane. But letting them go was the right thing. He knew it in his soul.

And now, lying next to Cas, watching him sleep, he felt something so full and real. It made every moment they were apart feel like the light had dimmed. With Cas, colors were brighter, and food tasted better. Dean didn’t have the words to describe what he felt when he looked at the angel in his bed. Love wasn’t enough. It wasn’t big enough. He watched in the dim light as Cas’s eyelids fluttered.

Adorable.

What did angels dream about? Smiting and holy crusades, or bees and saltwater taffy. Maybe he dreamed of being a baby angel, back when things were simpler before Dean confused the fuck out of the guy and encouraged him to fall. Dean couldn’t help himself and ran his knuckles down the side of Cas’s face, appreciating the sharpness of his jawline, the gruffness of his whiskered cheek.

Dean sighed and snuggled down under the covers. The bed was barely large enough to hold both of them. He settled down on his back, enjoying the warmth of Cas and his unique scent filling the room. In his sleep, Cas snuggled closer, draping a leg over Dean’s and resting his hand on Dean’s chest.

He let out a contented sigh and drifted to sleep, happier than he deserved to be but grateful for the respite from the fight.


	12. Closer to the Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Check End Notes

Dean woke slowly, warm whispers tickling the hair at the nape of his neck. Cas was wrapped tightly around him, his leg thrown over dean’s and his arm laying heavy across his chest. The angel ran hot, his body warm, heating the room and filling it with that indescribable scent that always made Dean think of lightning striking, a clean burn.

“Kah Nah Om Dar,” Cas mumbles in Enochian against Dean’s skin, the low gravelly voice coming out with a sigh.

Dean rolled slightly so he could look over at his angel’s relaxed face. It wasn’t often that he had the chance to see Cas without the weight of Heaven and Earth baring down on him. The angel was otherworldly. And not just because of his celestial nature, the perfect slope of his straight nose, the sweetness of his full, wide lips, the curve of his strong jaw. Dean leans in and places a simple kiss on his cheek.

It may only be his vessel, but this was the Cas Dean knew, the person he’d relied on for years and despite all his efforts to stop it from happening, the one he fell for, fell hard. It was ironic. Cas fell from Heaven for Dean and Free Will, but Dean fell from himself, fell and crashed to the ground, forced to confront himself and all his bullshit. But it was all worth it, to be lucky enough to be the one listening to Cas mumbling Enochian in his sleep.

Cas’s arm tightened around Dean, pulling him tight against the angel’s front. 

Dean snuggled in so he could feel the full press of Cas’s strength against him. He exhaled with a soft moan.

“You’re awake,” Cas mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, did I wake you?”

“No,” Cas shifted his hips, pushing his hard length against Dean’s ass. “It seems even asleep you have an effect on me.”

“Oh… Uh…” Dean leaned back, at a complete loss for words. All of his functioning brain cells shifted from his ability to think to his need to feel more of Cas. He tried to turn around, but Cas held him in place, his strong arm, infused with angelic intention immoveable. Christ Dean loved that. The power of Cas, something substantial and unbreakable he could rely on. He felt like he could let himself go completely, crash against the shore of Cas with no fear that either of them would break.

Cas placed his lips against the back of Dean’s neck, kissing and nibbling. Heat traveled along the line Cas traced with his tongue. By the time Cas got to the crook of his neck, Dean was overheated and squirming. That’s all it took. A few growled words and Cas’s delicious lips and Dean was done for. It had only been a few days since he even admitted to himself that he wanted this, and now he was a simpering mess, begging Cas for more. He didn’t even care what. He just wanted _more._

Cas nibbled on his lobe, breathing against his ear. “Don’t move.”

“What?”

“Don’t move, hold still for me. Can you do that?” Cas’s cock twitched against Dean’s ass, sparking an electrical fire in Dean’s veins.

“Ye...yeah…” Dean panted the word out.

Cas ran his hand up Dean’s chest, wrapping his long, strong fingers around the hunter’s neck. “I could heal these bruises for you,” Cas wound his other arm under Dean’s waist, palming his cock. Dean jerked against the touch with a mewling whine. “But I won’t unless you ask me to. I like seeing my mark on you, even if it’s a temporary one.” His hand moved along Dean’s color bone until he was gripping the handprint mark.

Dean gasped, the connection between the two of them a physical thing, tangible… corporeal.

“Come here,” Cas commanded, pulling away from Dean, leaving him suddenly cold and scrambling to follow. Cas stood at the edge of the bed, the dim light hid him from Dean, but the outline of his strength and just knowing it was Cas waiting for him propelled Dean to his knees. 

Dean reached out, wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck and pressing his lips against the angel’s. 

Cas pulled Dean against him hard, kissing him back, overtaking the kiss with a demanding tongue and punishing lips that pulled on Dean’s lower lip. His hands gripped Dean’s ass, pushing down his sleeping pants and kneading his flesh.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean moaned.

“Yes, that’s my intention,” the angel growled against Dean’s lips before pulling back and removing Dean’s hands from his hair and where he gripped his back. “Undress me.”

The command was soft but Cas made it clear that he expected to be obeyed.

Dean shivered and nodded in the dark. Could Cas see him? Did the angel smile at his willingness to please?

He slipped his fingers under the shirt and pulled it up, exposing Cas’s flesh to the warmth of Dean’s room. He pulled it up, slowly uncovering Cas, inch by inch, his fingered danced over his skin, enjoying the hardness of muscles against his skin. 

Cas raised his hands over his head, impassive as Dean pulled the shirt up and tossed it to the floor. When he lowered his arms, Dean ran his fingers across his chest, over his shoulders, and down his arms. At his waist, Dean slipped his fingers into the waistband of the sleep pants Cas wore.

Dean took a moment to lean forward, placing a kiss against Cas’s heart before lapping his tongue against his nipple, nibbling, and then sucking his flesh into his mouth.

Cas placed a hand on the back of Dean’s head, cradling him.

Dean kissed his way down Cas’s chest, dipping his tongue into his bellybutton, gripping the angel’s hip bones. He licked his way lower, shoving the pants down as far as he could reach, letting them pool on the floor on their own. He nosed his way through the curls of Cas’s thatch of hair, enjoying the muskier scent. He licked a line from one hip to the base of Cas’s cock.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, pulling Dean’s gaze up.

Cas’s eyes shone with Angelic light, the white bright and piercing, filling the room with shadows.

Dean couldn’t stop the moan that escaped or the way his stomach clenched at the display of power. God, he fucking loved it when Cas’s power was on display. He always had. Every time he smote a demon or appeared without warning, just a fluttering of feathers and a warm breeze, he was overwhelmed. At first, it had been fear, but now admiration, desire, adoration, lust… it all wrapped up together to overwhelm Dean and make his cock ache.

Cas urged him forward with a gentle hand and Dean didn’t resist. He licked the head, pulling a drop of precum into his mouth, rolling it around to savor the flavor of Cas’s desire. He dipped back in, drawing circles with his tongue around the head before sucking it into his mouth. He thrust his tongue out, widening his lips so he could take more and more of Cas. Bobbing forward and back until he was again suckling on the sensitive head.

Cas’s hold on Dean’s hair pulled but he held still, letting Dean set the pace.

Dean leaned forward, rocking on his hands and needs in supplication to the angel he loved. He took Cas’s cock deeper and deeper, relaxing his throat and taking as much of the thick erection as he could.

“Lay back,” Cas said, running his hand gently through Dean’s hair.

Dean pulled off, giving Cas’s cock a sweet kiss on the head before straightening up and leaning against him. “Anything you want, Cas.” He pressed his lips against Cas’s, drawing a deep sigh from the other man.

Dean laid back and Cas grabbed the fabric of his pants, pulling them off with such force Dean wasn’t sure if they were taken off or ripped off.

Cas loomed over him, his eyes still glowing white, his breath undetectable, the heat of his body rising.

Sweat beaded on Dean’s forehead and chest, his breath erratic as Cas crawled over him. He opened his legs so Cas could settle between them, pressing their bodies together.

When Cas kissed him, it was like the first time their lips met. Simple. Sweet. Perfect.

Cas ran one hand down Dean’s face as he pulled back, looking down at him with white glowing eyes and a well-timed head tilt.

“What’s the matter, Cas?” Dean asked, wrapping his arms around his angel, bending his legs so the other man’s body sank against him, pushing him further into the memory foam mattress.

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s breath caught in his chest, and he felt like he might hyperventilate. It was so hot in his room and Cas just… He just… Fuck…

Before Dean had a chance to react or say anything, Cas reached between them, running soft fingers across his cock, down to his balls. Dean pulled his legs higher, bringing his knees up and tilting his hips up for Cas. 

A static shock burst behind Cas as he touched a finger to Dean’s pinkened hole. He applied just enough pressure to make Dean squirm, his cock aching and heavy between them. When he was ready to start begging, Cas somehow knew and slipped one thick finger inside him, slicked with angel grace.

Dean’s whole body shuddered at the sheer intensity of it. He moaned and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Shhhh,” Cas cooed before whispering something else in Enochian. “Stay with me.”

Dean opened his eyes and returned Cas’s glowing stare, transfixed by the alienness of the creature he loved with his whole being. If only he could say it. But every time he felt the words on the tip of his tongue Cas did something to derail his thoughts.

Like, slip a second finger inside him.

Cas worked Dean open for what felt like eons, holding his gaze, trapping his heart.

Dean was helpless beneath him, sweat gathering between their bodies, giving them slick wetness to grind against. When Cas plunged a third finger into him, Dean arched up off the bed, eyes still tied to Cas’s, a scream caught in his throat like he was being strangled by his own need.

Cas twisted his fingers, pushing further in.

“Please,” Dean finally managed to croak. “Cas, please, please, I need you. I always need you. Please.”

The angel said nothing as he gently pulled his fingers out and realigned their hips so the tip of his cock was lined up with Dean’s desperate opening.

Dean clawed at Cas’s shoulders, pulling himself up to kiss and lick and plead the angel to take him, love him.

Cas entered Dean with a soft kiss, pushing slowly but insistently until he was fully sheathed inside the man he loved. Once there, his eyes flickered and he dropped his head to Dean’s neck, just breathing. The angel’s body shook and Dean placed kisses along his shoulder, stroking his back.

When Cas had composed himself, he kissed Dean, a hand on his hip, the other holding his weight, and began to move. He slid slowly almost all the way out and then back into Dean, filling him completely, thick and long. Dean whined, the slow pace torturous, but no amount of pleading or begging got through. Cas was intent on fucking him so slowly he died from his need. 

Cas slid into him so slowly Dean rocked up against Cas, fucking himself against the angel’s cock, desperate for more.

“No,” Cas said, leaning up and tightening his grip on Dean’s hip until he stopped rutting. “I told you not to move.”

Dean panted, staring wide-eyed at the silhouette of his lover. “Then you need to fuck me before I explode.”

Cas’s eyes flashed and another static shock burst behind him. This time a whoosh of cool air rushed through the room.

“That is not how you speak to me. You should show me some respect.” Cas’s voice was low and distant, the words like gravel against his throat.

“Cas?” Dean brought a hand up to Cas’s face but instead of the angel melting into his touch the way Dean had expected, Cas grabbed it and pinned him to the bed. His other hand moved from his hip to take his other wrist and pin that one as well.

“You want to be fucked? Like the human animal you are?”

Dean’s bedside lamp exploded and sparks flashed through the air.

“Cas, what…” 

His words were cut off as Cas released his wrist and backhanded him across the face. His eyes saw nothing but white and the sparks flying above their heads, bringing the room to full light. Dean could hear the sound of bulbs exploding in the hall.

He tasted blood. He tried to look up at his angel but when he moved his head, Cas hit him again before pinning him in place and thrusting deep and hard into Dean. The lubricating grace Cas had always used with him before faded away, leaving nothing but raw skin as Cas pushed himself deep into Dean’s body.

“Cas!” Dean screamed. “What the fuck are you…”

Another hit.

Dean’s head spun. He laid there, taking Cas’s brutal fucking, his head spinning and a sharp pain rattling in his mind. Was it in his mind? Or was the sound coming from somewhere else.

In the distance, he could hear someone pounding on his door and voices. 

Whose voices?

Cas’s whole body lit up, divine grace glowing inside him. The shadow of his wings took up the entirety of Dean’s room. When Cas looked down at him, his teeth were bared, and his eyes whited out. He looked more demonic than angel and for the first time since their first encounter, Dean was afraid of him.

Cas laid his hand on the side of Dean’s face pressing him into the mattress and holding him in places. His hips continued to fuck frantically. An alien growl escaped him and the pace increased. Dean wanted to scream or struggle, but the pressure against his face felt like his head might pop. The pressure made his ears ring and the pain in his skull raged.

Dean closed his eyes, knowing that protesting would only incur more injury and that looking at the angel could fry him from the inside out. He was powerless, pinned to the bed. Tears streamed down his face as Cas thrust into him at a frantic pace, ripping at the tender flesh inside Dean.

And suddenly, Cas was gone. 

The light was gone.

But the sound had increased and Dean rolled onto his side and covered his ears. Human voices were screaming and that high-pitched angelic voice wailed around him, shattering his television and any other glass surfaces in his room. 

He wanted to look, but he didn’t dare.

_Get the Holy Oil. I’ve got him._

Dean whimpered, pain in his cheek and lip, pain in his heart and mind. He rolled onto his side and curled up in a ball, not able to move more than that but feeling so cold and alone. His tears continued to flow. Why would Cas hurt him? How could Cas hurt him?

Millennia seemed to pass as he laid there, waiting for something. For someone. But he didn’t know what. He couldn’t move. Beyond his mind, he could still hear Cas screaming, both his angelic and human voice now.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was soft and nearby, but Dean couldn’t bear for him to see him like this, broken and used. “Dean, I’ve got your bathrobe. Let’s get you out of here.”

Dean clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.

“It’s okay. We have him trapped in a ring of Holy Oil. He can’t hurt you.”

The pity in Sam’s voice was what finally broke Dean out of his trance. He wouldn’t have his little brother looking at him like that, like something damaged. He’d been beaten worse, fucked rougher. Cas had nothing on the pain he’d endured in the past without breaking. So why did this feel like the world ending?

Dean tried to sit up, but the pain inside him was so shocking it took his breath away.

“It’s alright, Dean, that’s good, just lean on me and let’s get your robe on. We’ll go to my room, ok? Far away from Cas.”

But Dean didn’t want to be far away from Cas. He wanted to understand. 

Dean stood and let Sam help him put on his robe, his Dean Man’s robe. He chuckled. The dark humor in that painful. He felt like he’d died, or like something he loved had died.

Sam helped support his weight as they walked out of the room. In the hall, Dean could see the ring of holy fire a little down the hall. When Cas saw him, the screaming intensified, and that voice in his head that belonged to Cas wailed _MINE!_

Dean took a step back, stumbling into Sam’s arms. He shook—his entire body at the point of collapse. The site of Cas, naked and screaming, his white eyes narrowed in rage, and black wings manifested on this plane of existence, flapping frantically, trapped inside the circle. He could smell the singed feathers.

“Will that hold him?”

Sister Veronica appeared at the stairwell to the war room. “It will hold them. And if by some miracle it does not, I will not allow them to hurt you. I will kill them myself before I allow that to happen.”

The nun held his gaze and the painful, powerful truth of her words was what finally allowed him to crumble against Sam’s embrace, tears streaming down his face.

“What happened?” He cried over and over. “What did I do?”

Sam ran a firm hand over his back, holding him tight as he broke down. 

After a few minutes, Sam suggested they go to the infirmary, up a level, and on the other end of the bunker.

Dean didn’t relish the idea of stairs in his current state but nodded his head and composed himself back to standing. He looked at Sister Veronica, desperate and needing her reassurance.

“Yes, I will come too. When Eileen gets here, she will watch over Cas. Sam has already texted her.”

“When?”

“Dean,” Sam shook his head and encouraged his brother to start the trek to the infirmary.

“When did you do all this.”

“Dean, you were on your bed for two hours. You wouldn’t respond. You were barely breathing. I don’t know if it was shock or something Cas did, but it’s later than you think.”

Dean shook his head. He was never the one out of control. Never the victim. He hated the way Sam was looking at him. He tried to pull away and walk on his own, but he stumbled and Sam refused to let him try again.

Only Sister Veronica, stoic and strong, didn’t appear to have an ounce of pity in her eyes when she looked at him. And somehow, that made Dean feel safe. 

As if she could read his mind, she reached out and took his hand and softly, calmly, confidently said, “We’ll get them back, but first, we take care of you.”

Dean nodded and finally allowed his brother to bear more of his weight as they walked further away from the sound of Cas’s screams.

  
  
  


*Enochian Translation: We work to understand, obey and transform

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dubious Consent and Abusive Sexual Content. 
> 
> Plot points that are needed to go on to the next chapter in case you skipped this one. Angels don't experience love as passion or desire. It is not an active verb. For Castiel in angel mode, he would experience those feelings as something closer to rage. Cas is a warrior, he didn't answer prayers or deliver puppies to orphans.  
> He's not a soft and cuddly angel. He led a garrison and slaughtered legions. His ability to change, his stain of humanity made him different, but the Branch of Truth is attempting to restore him to factory settings and leave him there forever, driving him insane.


	13. Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean recovers. Sister Veronica chats with Castiel  
> CW: Trauma

Dean let Sam help him up onto the infirmary examination bed and tried not to wince at the pain that shot through him as he sat. Sam said nothing and looked away but Dean could practically feel the giant puppy-dog eyes filling with water.

Dean let Sister Veronica put a blanket over him as he settled back, exhaustion threatening to pull him under. Thankfully she just squeezed his hand and turned away, busying herself with god knew what on the other side of the room.

“Ok, let’s get you cleaned up.” Sam pressed a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide and began wiping layer after layer of thick drying blood. It still flowed fresh from above his eye but his lip had clotted enough that Sam decided to leave it to heal on its own, cleaning only the residual blood from his chin and cheek. The cotton balls, red and black, filled the tray next to the bed.

Sam focused on the job, not speaking or commenting on the damage Castiel had done.

Dean stared at the ceiling, allowing his silent tears to fall down the sides of his face.

“So what’s the verdict?” Dean asked when Sam paused in his cleaning. Sister Veronica appeared next to the bed, a silent guardian at his side.

“Well, I’m sure you have a concussion of some sort. I don’t know how you could have gotten this knocked around and not have one.”

Dean snorted a laugh, starting a steady flow of blood again. 

Sam handed him a cloth to wipe it and stop it up as they talked.

“Your nose is broken, but I can reset that when you’re ready, you have serious lacerations on your cheeks and some… some hair was pulled out on the left side of your head, the area is bleeding, it’s hard to know if it will grow back in or not. And I’m pretty sure your orbital bone is fractured based on the way your right side is swelling and the uhh… blood vessels blown in your eye. Your jaw is probably going to hurt like a son of a bitch for a while and I wouldn’t be surprised if you lose a tooth or two.”

“So nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Dean tried to smile, but his face hurt too much, almost as much as his heart.

“I’m going to give you pain meds and something to help you sleep.”

“No, I don’t want to… I can’t be…” Dean tried to sit up, but the pain in his backside screamed in protest.

“I won’t leave your side.” Sister Veronica promised and Dean let out a sigh.

“First, I need to check any other… injuries you have.” Sam looked at the floor, his jaw set hard. It wasn’t hard to see the rage in his brother, but right now, Dean couldn’t take care of him. For the first time, Dean just didn’t have it in him to put his brother first.

“I’m fine,” Dean laid back and settled into the bed. “Just set my nose and let me get some sleep.”

“Dean… I know it’s not comfortable.”

“I said I’m fine.” Dean closed his eyes, his tears flowing freely despite his words.

Dean heard a rustling around him and clenched his jaw, only to let out a gasp at the pain radiating through his brain.

“Ok, ready?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, stealing himself for the sharp snap as his brother reset his nose. It hurt, but Dean barely felt it. It all happened through a fog. 

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Take these.”

When Dean complied without a word, Sister Veronica motioned to Sam. Dean could still hear them, but their words floated around him, barely registering. All he could think about was Cas. Beautiful, powerful, _safe_ Cas. His Cas.

The tears came faster and he had to hold the cloth to his nose to keep from blowing bloody snot bubbles as the enormity of his pain crashed against him. He gasped as his stomach clenched like a steel-tipped boot had kicked him in the gut, but no, it was just him, his heart seizing in pain so absolute it wrenched through his entire body.

A hand laid on his shoulder and he turned into the touch, eyes closed. He rolled onto his side and buried his face into Sister Veronica’s robes and let her run soft fingers through his short hair as he sobbed, ugly and broken. He was so broken. This is what the end of the world felt like. Someone was ripping him apart more completely than Alaster himself had done in hell. Each thought, each moment, each touch, everything Cas had ever been to him was being ripped away from him and replaced with searing agony.

Dean pulled his knees up, wrapping himself around Sister Veronica as she silently stood vigil over his internal incineration. He wept so hard his throat hurt. He clutched to her so desperately, his hands cramped. He broke so thoroughly his soul might as well have evaporated on this exhale. He didn’t need it anymore. 

Sister Veronica let him cry, barely moving. Her soft breath whispered Latin he didn’t recognize, but which soothed him with the blanket of comfort she offered. When he’d released what was certainly only the first wave of his anguish, he listened closer.

_Illumina Lux aeterna super me ut tangam gloriae vestrae. Dirige me tuam, ut sciam instituisti. Recliner super viribus ut convallis rursus emergere ex damnum spe et caritate renovati spiritu. Amen._

“Are you praying?” Dean pulled back and looked up at her incredulously, but the tears streaking down her face stopped him from saying anything else.

“In my way, yes.”

“Chuck doesn’t deserve your prayers.”

“I do not pray to him.”

“Then, who? If you don’t pray to God, who? Not… not Cas?”

Sister Veronica tilted her head in a way that made a shock run through Dean with recognition and pain. “No, not to them. I pray to remind myself of the need to pray. I pray to center my energies and thoughts on that which I pray over.”

Her look was so kind and gentle. He couldn’t even make fun of her. His words trapped, not because he couldn’t say that due to his usual emotional constipation but because she had stolen them from his lips with her kindness

“What did you say?” He whispered, lying back on the bed again, fatigue beginning to narrow his vision.

Sister Veronica smiled and placed her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Shine your eternal light onto my soul and let me feel the joy of your love. Guide me with your wisdom, so I may understand your plan. Let me lean upon your strength so I may grow strong once more and emerge from my loss with a renewed spirit of love and hope. Amen."

“Our loss,” Dean corrected.

“We shall see,” she smiled gently before placing her lips on his forehead. “I want you to sleep now, but you must make me one promise.”

“What.”

“If your pain is bad enough, you think there may be a tear or a fissure, you must tell me. I will never breathe a word of it to Sam, but you cannot let it go untreated. I’ll find you cream to help with the pain and we will limit you to softer foods for a while. A bath might be nice too.”

Dean turned bright red and turned away. “Why are you being nice to me? Aren’t you supposed to think I’m a degenerate sinner?”

“I would hope we’ve been through enough together now to know I think no such thing. And love can never be a sin. It’s the essential truth of what binds humanity together. Love. And I know you love Castiel, and I know they love you. Whatever is happening to them,” she shook her head, “in their own broken way, I believe they are still acting with love.”

Dean gave her a small nod and then turned away. I hurt too much to think that any of this was rooted in love, in what he and Cas felt for each other.

He heard Sister Veronica sit next to the bed in one of the terrible chairs the Men of Letters left them. She began her prayer again, nearly silent, as Dean cried himself to sleep.

As soon as Dean was healed enough to stand up, he started demanding to know what they have found out. Sam, Eileen, and Sister Veronica all stood around the infirmary chair he sat in as if he were holding court, all three with identical smiles.

“What do you mean you’ve found nothing?” Dean yelled, pushing himself to stand with barely a wince. His eye was black and the blood vessels all burst, giving him a demonic look, and his hair was unwashed and sticking out every which way, except for the missing patch that still stung.

“Dean, it’s not like we’re not trying.” Sam placated, his large hands spreading before him as if to display all the things they had done. “Donatello has no ideas, Crowly has no leads and has put all Demons on high alert to report back if they hear anything, Chuck isn’t answering our prayers, the books have nothing, and we even reached out to the British Men of Letters, but they were shit out of luck too. I don’t know where else to look!”

“So you’re just going to give up, leave him in a ring of holy oil, raging and going insane forever.”

“That’s not… That’s not what I said, Dean.”

“What about the artifact?” He cut Sam off, unable to hear any more of his excuses. He paced slowly, trying to think, but all he had in his head was the look on Cas’s face when he screamed and slammed the back of his hand against his face.”

“Our best source for that was Cas.”

Sister Veronica approached where Dean stood still, trying to keep the defeated shape of his shoulders from becoming permanent. She wore a pair of his jeans and one of Cas’s few clothing items, a blue teeshirt that said “Beez Kneez” in yellow. She looked ridiculous and precious and It was all Dean could do to keep from screaming at her that she shouldn’t be wearing Cas’s things. He was still here. She didn’t have the right.

“Stop,” she said. “Whatever you’re doing inside your head, stop. It’s not helping.” She ushered him back to the chair where she had tended his wounds and replaced his bandages earlier.

“What about another angel?” Dean perked up, “Who do we know?”

“No one how is going to be willing to help Cas. He’s not exactly popular up there.” Sam countered.

“He’s not exactly popular down here!” Dean cried, “but that doesn’t mean we’re giving up. We need to know more about that fucking branch and about what it’s done to Cas and how to undo it.”

“If we can undo it,” Eileen said with her voice and hands, looking sadly at Dean.

“I don’t accept that.”

“Well, the only other time we’ve summoned an angel without their consent was you and Bobby calling Castiel, years ago. Do you remember what you did?”

“I can find it.”

“Ok,” Sam shrugged his shoulders before pushing his hair off his forehead. “Tell us what you need and we’ll gather materials and bring them here. We’ll do what we can to get in touch with the angels.”

Dean bristled. “I can get to the library, Sam.”

“I know that, but… Cas is…”

“Cas is still in the hallway,” Eileen said. “I can’t hear him, but they can, and it doesn’t look pleasant.”

“Oh.” Dean ran his hand over his mouth, rubbing absently at his scruff, which has grown in after a few days in the infirmary. “Well, I don’t know what else to do. I don’t remember well enough to tell you what I need. I have to look around, do the research. I’ll find it, but I need to get in there.”

“I have an idea,” Sister Veronica offered, unusually soft. “I think I can keep them distracted for a while.”

“What are you going to do?” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing dangerous, I promise, I’ve just… You aren’t the only one who has been avoiding them.”

“Well, it’s all we’ve got.” Sam nodded, looking hard at Sister Veronica. “If you think you can buy us some time to get Dean in and out of the library without Cas making too much of a fuss, I say we do it. All this started with that fucking artifact, so let’s find out whatever we can about it.

***

Sister Veronica sat at the edge of the ring of fire trapping Castiel with a large plate and two bowls. She had remembered something they had told her when they first met; Angels are really just another kind of animal. Their original form was limited, but they were certainly capable of emotion and desire. It was training and conditioning from God that over the millennia turned most angels into either the statuesque soldiers who ran Heaven or those who disobeyed like Lucifer, Anna, and even themselves.

Cas squatted, still naked, in his cage, staring at her with a confused expression, head tilted, his screaming for Dean momentarily halted. They’d been bellowing for their mate for days. The low baritone raspy from overuse and agony. Their fury had raged nonstop around the clock. Dean had been marked, he had been claimed, he belonged to Castiel, and their sin of keeping the angel from what was theirs would result in a death they elaborately described.

“Veronica?” they asked. In a crouch they were about the same height as her kneeling. Without the fire, they were close enough to touch, to offer comfort, but the heat of the flame reminded her of exactly what they have become.

“You must be depleted, no celestial connection to heaven with this fire burning.”

They tilted their head the other way, blue eyes squinting.

She ripped off a piece of the warm, airy bread and dipped it into the bowl containing honey. She closed her eyes and blessed the offering reverently before looking up to Castiel. Then she passed her arm through the fire, singing the small hairs on her arm and holding the treat out to them. 

The fire raged around her but she held still, waiting for the angel to take the bread and honey from her. She pulled her arm out, the flesh red, but not in pain.

Castiel licked the honey with a moan. They held it with both hands, eyes fluttering closed as they took a bite of the fresh bread with the sweet topping.

Sister Veronica smiled. Like any other animal, angels could be tamed. You just had to know how.

When they were done, Castiel looked from Veronica to the bread sitting on her side of the fire. She ripped off another small piece and dipped it into the honey, thick and flavorful. This time, as soon as her fingers crossed the barrier, Castiel grabbed it from her, making sure not a single bit dripped from the bread.

“This reminds me of the ancient days when Angels still walked alongside people and out deeds were known to all.”

“I had hoped that would be the case.” She lifted the second bowl, full of warmed whole milk. She brought it to her lips and took a small sip before passing it to an eager looking Castiel. They drank a sip and set it down, not allowing any to spill. Sister Veronica looked at it. Tempted to make him hand it back until she decided to return it just to make it clear what role she played in their dynamic, but decided against forcing the issue. This was for Dean’s benefit, not the creature before her wearing Castiel’s face like a mockery.

“Did I ever tell you about Sodom and Gomorrah?” Castiel said casually.

“No,” Sister Veronica replied without inflection as she dipped more bread in honey for the crazed angel.

“Vafiel and Lezoul were so blinded by Abraham’s goodness. They watched as the man bargained with God himself to spare the cities of sin. The Garrison laughed at their naivety and I didn’t stop them, the hubris of Abraham to think he knew the value of a life better than God almost as funny as the angels who followed him.”

Veronica passed him the bread and waited while he chewed slowly, savoring each complex flavor as if it were the first time he had tasted honey as if it had come from the garden itself.

“Vafiel and Lezoul rushed ahead of the man, determined to prove his claim that ten good men could be found. When they arrived, the streets were littered with trash and prostitutes, and the few men they found were inebriated or smelled of pork meat. The cities themselves wreaked of the scents of sin. To find even one man who respected the laws of God would be a miracle. But we watched from a distance, allowing them to make their own fates.

That night, before Abraham had even ventured out toward the cities, the angels found one man who treated them with respect and hospitality. He offered them beds and food, and even the company of his daughters should they wish it. The old days were full of such offers. You pious fools think to be heavenly means to be chaste and pure. Let me assure you, angels are no such things.”

He smiled then, bouncing slightly on his toes before finally sitting and taking another sip of milk. His eyes glinted with power and hunger. Predatory.

“But others in town had heard about the beautiful stranges, so they came, determined to _welcome_ the newcomers in their own ways. Lot, the man who had received them, tried to protest, but they shoved him aside, proceeding to beat and rape the angels who had been forbidden from using their powers. And we sat and watched.

It wasn’t until God gave the order that we moved. Hanna pulled Lot aside and sent him and his family running to the city of Zoar, but everyone knows that story. His wife turned to salt and so he raped his daughters to continue the family line. All done without any protest from heaven.

But Sodom and Gomorrah had offended God’s laws and abused his angels, and so I led my garrison. I stood at the front and gave the battle cry as my sword took down the first dozen humans in one blow. The carnage of not one but two cities was thick and bloody. The land these cities stood on would take generations to recover. We decimated property, salted crops, set fire to virgins, we enacted God’s light with the fury of pure submission.

Our desire to please went so deep we didn’t stop at only the two cities. We continued to Admah and then to Zeboim. Our hair and clothes were so streaked with blood we shed anything we didn’t need and slaughtered humanity, naked and glorious.”

Sister Veronica used the last of the bread to scrape out the last of the honey. She handed it to Castiel, her arm blazing red and beginning to bleed, but she didn’t even wince.

Castiel finished the milk and passed it back to her with a gleam in their eye. “Did you like my story?”

“Yes,” Sister Veronica replied, gathering the dishes and standing up. “It reminded me clearly what a monster you must be. Whatever you have done with my friend, I shall mourn them as if dead, because looking at you, I see no trace of my angel.”

Castiel laughed, “Oh Veronica, don’t you understand? I am Castiel, purified, returned to myself without your human stain. I can no more be removed than cotton can be removed from your shirt. It is part and parcel of the same thing. Someday, I’ll find my way free from your trap, and I’ll show you.”

Castiel’s eyes flashed white and he stood. Lightning flashed inside the angel trap and his wings unfurled, filling up the entire space, pressing up against the ring of fire and releasing the acrid smell of burnt flesh.

“I’ll show you all.”


	14. Purity of Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling all angels

Dean stood next to the angel trap in the Abandoned barn about an hour and a half outside Lebanon. This time, he didn’t bother with the sigils or runes he and Bobby had painted in another barn so many years ago. This time, he just struck the match, lighting the contents of the copper bowl before him and beginning his recitation of the Enochian spell: “Zod ah mah rah na ee es lah gee roh sah*”

The spark flares into blue and gold flames before heating up, filling the drafty building with its divine light.

“How long does this usually take?” Sam asks, moving his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t like leaving Eileen and Sister Veronica alone with Cas.

“Me either,” Dean sighs, feeling like the weight of this entire situation is on him. He should have left well enough, never moved on his feelings about Cas, just shoved it all down even when he had arrived in his motel room, celestial and powerful. Tempting a fucking angel, that was pretty classic Dean style fuckup.

“What do we do if this doesn’t work?” Sam raised an eyebrow then looked away from Dean shaking his head.

“If it comes to that, I’ll do it. I’ll be the one to put him down. I owe him that much.” Dean whispered, staring into the still burning fire.

“It’s not going to come to that. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

Dean huffed. “We’ll see.”

“Winchesters.” a young girl stood before them and before responding, Sam flicked open and dropped his lighter, locking her in the angel trap.

She rolled her eyes, passing a hand in front of her feeling the heat. “This really isn’t necessary. I came of my own free will.”

“Right, well, we haven’t had much luck with angels lately, so we’ll just play it safe if that’s alright with you.” Dean snarked, staring the little girl down.

Light flashed in her eyes and Dean was reminded of another barn with another angel and how his whole life changed that moment. 

“You should be grateful I’m here at all. There aren’t many angels willing to respond to your call.”

“So, why did you?” 

The angel lowered her head, looking somewhat abashed for a flash and then returning her stealing gaze to the brothers. “My name is Purah. I worked for Metatron. I owe Castiel a debt.”

“You owe… you owe Cas a debt… You mean from when Metatron stole his grace and cast him out or from when he imprisoned Cas and Gadreel killed himself to get Cas out?”

“Yes, all of those things. As you can see, I owe Castiel quite a bit. So while the other angels may eschew him for the many many ways in which he’s failed the host…”

Dean let the Angel Blade in his hand fall into position and he took a step forward.

“I do not hold such animosity, which is why I’m here. I can feel Castiel’s desperation. His location and grace are hidden from us, I presume thanks to you, but his pain is so intense it’s deafening. What has he done?”

Dean sighed and set the blade on the table beside him. “We don’t really know. That’s why we need your help.”

Purah sat crosslegged in the middle of the angel trap, looking as young as her vessel, and waited patiently for Dean to continue. But his head swarmed, where did they start, how important was his relationship with Cas to the story. He honestly hadn’t thought past getting someone here, and now that help was sitting at their doorstep, he was lost.

“Are you familiar with the Branch of Truth?” Sam asked, diving in, leaving Dean wading in the water, too cold to bear, his body tried to retreat from the truth but he forced himself forward, waiting for what Purah would say.

“There have been rumors it was found. You have it?”

“I’m not saying we do, just need some information on it.”

Purah leaned forward, almost onto her knees. She stared at Sam and then back to Dean. “I will tell you what you need to know but first, I need your reassurance. Is this place warded? From demons and angels?”

“Yes,” Dean replied, as well as we could in short notice.

“Then we will just have to hope no one cares enough to listen in.” She took a deep breath. “You must destroy the branch.”

“That’s what Cas said… at first,” Sam said.

“He has not touched it has he?” 

“No, but we think it’s affecting him. He’s not… he’s not Cas anymore,” Sam pointedly avoided his brother’s look.

Dean wanted to cry, wanted to scream that it wasn’t true that Cas was still good. Still their Cas. But he had no proof of that.

Purah nodded. “The Branch returns all creatures who come into contact with it to their purest state. Even under warding, it is difficult to resist its pull. For an angel… Do you remember the old testament? Has Castiel told you about his days in Ishim’s Flight? They were the most feared, the most revered of all the garrison, brought together to do some of the most questionable of God’s orders. And Castiel was the most brutal of them all. If the Branch were to restore him to even half his brutality, he would be… formidable. Heaven no longer has the numbers, nor the clarity of mission to handle angels of old.”

“Cas said something about returning to a pure form and being locked here, keeping angels in their angelic non-corporeal state?” 

“That would come from touching the Branch. He hasn’t…”

“No, no, but he has changed since he found it. His grace is restored and his wings fully healed.”

Purah sighed, “Then I fear it’s working its way through him. Since Castiel was injured, it had to heal him before purifying him. You must get him away from it, and you must destroy the Branch.”

“How?” Dean blurted. “How do we move him when he’s trapped in an angel trap just to keep him from killing us? How do we destroy the branch without risking damage to ourselves?”

“You may not be able to. The Branch is just wood. Anyone who can hold it can break it or light it on fire, but it requires contact with a living being. But no one can hold it without suffering its effects.”

“I’ll do it. I don’t care about its fucking effects. I’ll hold it and break it into kindling.”

“Dean,” Purah looked up at him, young eyes full of pity, “You would be incinerated before you were able to do anything. That is the power of the Branch. It is irresistible and unbreakable.”

“There has to be something, someone.” Dean began to pace.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have more answers for you. Only a completely bound soul, pure in its intention, can touch the Branch, and so far in all of history, Eve was the only one to do it.”

“Why? What made her different? Is it the “built from a rib” thing? I thought she was evil?”

“Evil?” Purah laughed. “Eve was purely human. 100% authentic. That is why she didn’t burn away and turn into an untethered soul. She was exactly who she was supposed to be, doing exactly what she was built for. No other human has had such purity of purpose since then.”

“We really need you guys to come down here and teach Sunday School.” Dean ran his hand through his hair and looked at Sam. The younger man just shrugged his shoulders, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“Okay, so we need to find someone or something completely pure in purpose, but until then, how do we fix Cas.”

“I don’t know that you can. As an angel, he’s already corrupted. His grace is being restored to its ancient form. Unevolved.”

Sam drove the Impala on the way back to the bunker while Dean stared out the window. No music played and for once, Dean wasn’t bouncing his leg or tapping his fingers or fidgeting at all.

“What are you thinking?” Sam finally asked. Dean hadn’t spoken to him about Cas’s attack. He preferred Sister Veronica’s council, and he hadn’t been back to the library since finding the summoning spell. His brother had been a ghost, barely leaving the infirmary and surrounded by a kind of nothingness that scared Sam.

Dean didn’t even cry after the first night.

They weren’t cryers to begin with, Dad hadn’t been big on displays of emotion, but the shit Dean had been through… and Sam only knew what Dean had allowed him to know but he’d seen the blood on the sheets when they’d gotten Dean out of his room, he’d felt the weakness in his body when he’d practically carried his brother to the infirmary.

But this quiet stillness. It scared Sam more than anything else. It was the same kind of resignation he’d seen in his brother after making the crossroads deal. After a long list of terrible decisions he made because he was too stubborn to lose someone he loved.

Finally, they spoke at the same time.

“I’m going to break it.”

“You’re not going to touch it.”

“I can do it. I can hold on long enough to smash it to bits. Who do you know with more purity of intention than me?”

“Dean, no. You can’t do it. You’re too close to it. You think your intentions are pure, but they’re all wrapped up in saving Cas and getting your happy ending and you can’t see how…”

“How broken I am?”

“I was going to say how hurt, but yes. You aren’t strong enough.” Sam said softly, hating having to tell his brother the one thing he prided himself on. If Dean was one thing, he was strong enough to save the people he loved. But right now… he just wasn’t.

“Maybe, but I will be.” Dean set his jaw hard and it twitched.

Sam peeked at him quickly before looking back at the road. “There’s not that much time, Dean. There’s no time.”

“So what do we do, Sammy? What do you suggest? We just watch him suffer? We let him go insane in a tiny jail of fire and oil? We watch as any shred of his humanity is ripped from him?”

“No, of course not, we’ll find something. I promise. Just give me a little time and we’ll come up with a plan.”

Back at the bunker, Sam hauled their supplies out of the Impala and watched as Dean walked out without saying a word.

“Hi, Dean!” Eileen called from the library. The bunker was unusually quiet, the screaming angel eerily silent.

“What’s going on? Why is Cas quiet.”

“Sister Veronica slipped him some oxycodone. I didn’t think it would work, but it knocked him out. Thank god, because now we can finally think.”

Dean moved without thinking, grabbing the empty crystal decanter from the bar and unleashing the angel blade. His eyes drew up hard, his mouth set in a cruel line as he walked past her and straight toward the hall.

“Where are you going?” She called, and Dean could hear her scrambling and calling for Sam behind him, but he didn’t falter. Purity of motherfucking purpose.

In the hall, Castiel laid curled up, his wings wrapped around him like a blanket, the fire raging around him.

Dean stepped closer, his heart pounding, and his teeth clamped so tight they could shatter. Dean didn’t even fucking care. He avoided looking at Cas’s face as he stalked forward, crossing the few yards between them in seconds.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice called out and he knew he only had a few seconds if he was going to do this. 

He stepped inside the ring of fire, his clothes and hair singing, letting off the kind of smell that told anyone with an ounce of self-preservation to stay away. Nothing good was happening here.

“Dean! Wait!” Sam’s feet pounded against the tile floor, and behind him, Dean heard Sister Veronica’s soft step coming toward him.

He knelt, pulled Cas against him, and tipped his head back, brandished the angel blade, and sliced the throat of the man he loved.

Silence surrounded him. Nothing was real, nothing mattered. Purity of fucking purpose.

Dean opened the decanter and held it up to the injury, blood seeping out slowly, and then a blue/white whisp escaped. Dean guided it into the decanted, holding Cas’s head in place until it tapered off. He put the top on, sealing Cas’s grace inside, and held Cas against his chest.

“What did you do?” Sister Veronica gasped when she saw them sitting there, an unconscious drugged-out Cas and Dean with tears streaming down his face.

“What I had to. I found my purity of purpose, and it’s him.”

Soon Sam and Eileen joined them, mouths open in shock, but Dean didn’t give a shit. Not even a little shit nugget. No, he only cared about saving the man in his arms and the opportunity to get him back. Anyway he could.

  
  


_ *Show yourself within this bitter sting _


	15. Flightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas both confront what they've done.

Dean waited inside the ring of fire, cradling Cas against his chest. The others screamed. Sam paced. Sister Veronica looked on in horror. Eileen made an inhuman sound and gestured at him with furious movements. But he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t care. He just sat, watching and stroking Cas’s face saying his name over and over like a prayer, waiting for the angel to wake up.

Except he wasn’t an angel anymore, and he couldn’t hear his prayers.

He sat there, waiting for his human to wake up. 

Slowly, the black feathers of Cas’s wings began to fall out. They sizzled when the air current brought them into contact with the holy fire no one could justify putting out until they knew what would happen. Who would awaken? Would he be like the last time he was human, or would this be something else, had the branch changed him irrevocably? 

He looked so small in Dean’s arms. Naked and suddenly shivering. Something Dean never thought he’d see. He took off his jacket and draped it over Cas’s chest before pulling him closer, offering all the body heat he had to offer.

Black feathers gathered in Dean’s lap and lay scattered on the floor. Soon Cas’s wings were nothing but bone, cartilage, and skin, which flaked and fell away like dried clay before his eyes. Dean had never seen his wings before this horror show started. They were beautiful, and he’d never get to see them again. Dean ran his hand down Cas’s back, feeling the two scar lines from where his wings had once attached to his body. A body that could no longer support their existence.

“Dean?” Cas mumbled, and the hunter pulled him closer, rocking him as he fought his way out of the thick cotton fog of too much oxy. 

“Shh… you’re okay now, just rest. I’ve got you. Everything’s okay.” He whispered to Cas, petting his hair and mumbling reassuring words.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Sam said, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his face hard, glaring at him over the flames of holy fire. Dean wasn’t used to seeing his little brother like this, like he was the one who was gonna get scolded, Sam may give him bitch face all the time, but this time, his brother was hard as stone. But right now, Dean didn’t care one bit what anyone thought about what he’d done. Cas needed saving, and Dean fucking saved him. End of story.

“I know Sammy. We will, just, let’s get him stable first.”

“Get him stable? Dean, what the fuck are you doing? Cas tried to kill you, he… he raped you!”

“That’s not what happened,” Dean shook his head. “He never would have hurt me if it wasn’t for that fucking branch and you know it. It’s Cas, man. How many times has he saved our asses?”

“And how many times has he betrayed us? How many times has he broken your heart by doing  _ exactly _ the wrong fucking thing? And you just let him do it again. As soon as you got together, he started to change. Bruises on your neck? Mass murder? Sure they were demons, but you didn’t see him. It was terrifying.”

“That was the branch,” Dean shook his head and held the shivering body of Cas closer. “Can we put out the fire and get him into bed?”

“No fucking way!”

Sister Veronica passed a blanket through the border, the edge singing, but it was enough to cover Cas’s naked body. Dean tucked it around him as much as possible, shoving the edges under the parts of Cass he could reach.

“Is he alive?” Sister Veronica asked, her arms clutched around her middle. One forearm and hand was wrapped and bandaged.

“He’s breathing,” Dean shrugged.

“I’m alive,” Cas croaked out in a raspy voice.

Everyone came closer as Dean leaned around to try and catch Cas’s eyes with his own. 

“Cas, are you  _ you?” _ Dean asked.

“I believe so, yes. Although, I’m unnervingly tired, and… my body aches.”

“Yeah, you better get used to that. We’re gonna have to get your body up to speed now that you’ll have to use actual muscles to kick down doors,” Dean chuckled, clutching Cas even closer and making him cough.

“What?” Cas tried to sit up. He looked around and realized he was inside a ring of fire while Sam stood close, hands clenched in fists at his sides. Eillen was there… when had she arrived? She was slightly behind Sam, a hand on the small of his back, which brought a soft smile to Cas’s face. He was happy to see they had connected.

And then he found Sister Veronica’s eyes. Large, golden brown, and with depths that could swallow a man whole. The sadness and regret he saw and the way she curled her shoulders forward as if protecting herself broke his heart. As if protecting herself from him.

“Can we put the fire out now? Come on, he’s fine.” Dean pleaded and Sam stood impassive.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Castiel?” Sister Veronica knelt down and for the first time, he noticed her injury.

“Please, put out the fire so I can heal your arm. What have you done?” 

Her eyebrows shot up and Dean squeezed him so hard Cas let out a grunt. It hurt. The hunter’s strength shouldn’t have been more than Cas could handle.

“What’s going on?” Cas looked between their faces and received no clues but when he turned to look at dean, a whiskey decanter glowing a bright whitish-blue caught his attention. He sucked in a breath. The dizziness surrounding him from confusion and disorientation felt so much like the Oxycodine had, he almost couldn’t feel the difference.

“Is that my grace?” He looked around at defiant eyes, except for Dean, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. He rose onto unsteady legs. “Dean, did you take my grace? Where are my…” he fumbled around, reaching behind him, trying to touch what was no longer there.

“Veronica, I can’t manifest them. Can you see?”

“Castiel…”

Feathers disintegrated beneath his feet as he paced the small space. “Gone…” he whispered. My grace, my wings, I’m… gone.”

“You are more than your grace,” Veronica soothed, a soft smile on her face.

“I’m not. I’m not. I have no soul. I am nothing. I’m emptiness waiting until I fall into hell or suffer my own weaknesses in the Empty. No, even they wouldn’t have me. No soul, no grace, there’s no place for me now.”

“Here. Here is the place for you now, Cas!” Dean stood and tried to take him into his arms, but Cas moved away from his touch despite his horror and fatigue.

“No, Dean, the last time I was human, you sent me away. I was homeless and starving and desperate all because of you! Without my grace, what use am I? What purpose do I serve?” 

Dean recoiled but held his ground. “Things are different between us now; you know that. You belong here with us with me.”

Cas shook his head, his eyes filling with water. “Sam, if you’ll let me out, I’ll gather my things and leave.”

“That would probably be best. If you remember the things you’ve done, you know I have no interest in you sticking around.”

Dean came to wrap his arms around Cas, but he backed away until he reached the ring of fire, and despite the heat and burning of his skin, he was able to step through. 

“Oh, oh… Oh…” he shook his head, breathing faster until spots appeared in front of his eyes. The room emptied of oxygen and even though he could hear voices calling to him. 

Dean reached out, but Cas backed up, pressing his naked back against the hallway’s cool tile wall. 

“No, don’t. Don’t touch me. I can’t. I…” he heaved, vomit rose in his throat, burning his insides and making him retch, but of course, there was nothing to throw up. He didn’t eat. Instead, he was left with tears running down his face, mucus filling his nose, and pain burning his insides like acid.

“Castiel,” Sister Veronica stood before him, arms held out, not to wrap around him, but offered, palms up, as much in support as in submission.

He looked through her, unable to focus, his breathing erratic. It came in short pants as his thoughts swam. No one thing could hold his mind’s attention other than his loss, so massive it was impossible to explain. No one could possibly understand the magnitude of it.

“Leave us alone,” she ordered the others.

“No fucking way. I’m not going anywhere! Not till I know he’s okay.” Dean began with a yell and ended with a whimper.

“He’s safe with me. Put his grace somewhere secure and then come back. That should be enough time.”

“Enough time for what.”

She turned away from a weeping Cas and pinned Dean with her most intense stare, “Enough time for me to help him ease through the panic attack that’s threatening to render him unconscious. Now go. Leave us alone. We will all talk later.”

Dean sighed. His shoulders sagged as he stamped out the holy fire and picked up the bottle of grace. “Come on, Sammy, help me find a good place for this.”

Dean didn’t make eye contact with his brother but didn’t need to turn around to know Sam was following along. 

Eileen made a quick escape. Sister Veronica didn’t listen to what she said, though, her entire focus back on Castiel. Her hands still hung between them and even though he made slight moves to take them, he gasped and withdrew every time he saw the injury on her arm. He knew that burn had come from the holy fire, and he knew it only happened because of him.

“Veronica, if only I could heal you,” he whispered, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around him. “My dearest friend, you can only do what you can do. That’s all anyone can do.” She sat beside him and pulled him against her so that he leaned in her arms, half lying against her side. “What do you remember?”

“I remember the battle. I remember coming home… returning to the bunker. I remember the pain, the screaming that felt like it was pulling me out of my own body. I remember Dean making the agony stop. And then I woke there. With my wings gone. And Dean. And my grace. Veronica…” he sobbed again. “Am I human now? My experience with humanity was intolerable. It was riddled with pain and rejection and confusion. I don’t want this.”

“I know, Castiel, I know.” she soothed, rubbing a hand over his back.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean’s voice quivered in its attempt to sound casual and Sam’s hand on his shoulder appeared to be holding his brother back. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I feel off the Chrysler Building.”

Dean chuckled softly. A joke. Not a good one, but then Cas’s jokes were never good. “Come on, let’s get some clothes for you and then have some dinner, you need to eat. We can talk all of this through then.”

“Dean,” Sam gripped his brother’s shoulder tighter. “I don’t know.”

Dean turned back to his larger/younger brother. “He’s human and scared. He can’t hurt me now, Sammy. I just… let me take care of him, and then we’ll all talk. Why don’t you pick up a pizza? I’ll even eat some salad, okay. Please.”

Sam shook his head. He wanted to say no. Love made people blind, made them do stupid things, and his brother wouldn’t be the first person to take back an abusive lover just because they’d promised they’d changed. But in reality, they didn’t know how much of this was Cas and how much of this was the Branch. So he let go, and Dean stepped forward and crouched down to Cas’s eye level.

“Come on, I’ve got plenty of clothes you can wear and all your stuff is in my room anyway. Not that you have much.”

Cas stood on uneasy feet and let Dean guide him by the elbow, the blanket the only thing maintaining his dignity. Once the door to Dean’s room was closed, he sighed and sat down, placing his head in his hands. It was such a human gesture, but somehow it just felt right. Soothing to let his arms hold the weight of his head instead of his neck.

“Are you really okay?” Dean sat next to him and wrapped an arm around Cas’s middle, making him smile.

Cas didn’t respond. What did okay look like in this new world? “I’ll need you to be more specific.”

“Of course you will.” Dean chuckled and placed a kiss on his shoulder.

Cas smiled, glad that even though they’d only had the one encounter in the motel together, nothing had changed. Dean still wanted him. That was perhaps his biggest fear, that now--like this--the hunter would no longer have any interest in them being together. Memories of this day flooded back to him; bodies twisted together, flesh sliding against flesh… his strong hand around Dean’s throat. 

He whipped his head to look at Dean and reached out, his hand shaking, before pulling down the collar of his T-shirt. Cas sucked a breath in through his teeth, making a hissing sound. “I did this.” A question and a statement wrapped in one.

“Yeah. But Cas, I liked it, remember? This isn’t something you need to feel bad about.”

“But I would never. I could never hurt you.”

“You didn’t. This is just a bruise; it’s nothing. Being with you that day was amazing; you were so good to me. You were so strong and sure and I was so afraid.”

“Of me.” Castiel provided, certain of the truth.

“No, of me. You made me feel safe.”

“By hurting you?”

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, “Stop. You didn’t hurt me. I liked it. I loved it. I… I love you.”

“No, no, you don’t. Not if you think  _ that _ is me. That’s not something I could do. I could never injure you on purpose and if that’s what you want, then you don’t want who I am. Maybe, maybe that was the angel in me trying to make you submit, or maybe it was the Branch already at work, but Dean,” Cas looked at him with such heartfelt blue eyes Dean thought he might stop breathing. “Dean, that’s not me and it’s not what I want.

Dean blinked at him, his words reorienting everything he thought about what they could be together. Who was Cas without the angel, without the fury that burned in his grace? He stood up and grabbed underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt from a drawer and laid them on the bed.

“I guess you don’t remember us being together here in the bunker then, do you?” Dean uttered without emotion, not meeting Cas’s eyes.

“No, why? Did I hurt you worse than…”

Dean barked a laugh. “You could say that. It’s better you don’t remember.”

“Will you tell me?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“It wasn’t you. And you’ll just beat yourself up and make a big deal out of it. I’m over it, so don’t worry. Just get dressed.” Dean handed Cas the boxer briefs he’d pulled out.

“I may not be an angel, but I can still tell when you are lying, Dean.” He stood and pulled the tight underwear on and grabbed the too long jeans to put on, one leg at a time. Like a man. “Whatever happened had to have been bad enough for you to cut off my wings.”

Dean looked away, and Cas noticed the swelling on Dean’s face, the yellow/purple of his black eye, the split lip. All of which he could heal. He would have healed. “Did I hurt you? Your face. Was that what I did?”

Cas reached out to touch him, cradle Dean’s face in his hand, but Dean flinched away. “So it’s okay for you to touch me, but not for me to touch you.” Cas cocked his head to the side, trying to understand. “Because if you touch me, you’re in control, but if I touch you, I could hurt you.”

Dean sighed. “I guess, yeah.”

“But, as much as I’m sure your face hurts, that’s not something you would complain about normally, let alone rip me from heaven for.”

“I had to Cas, I… You were losing your mind and the Branch of Truth was affecting you even if you hadn’t touched it. Taking your grace was the only thing I could think of to stop it. I saw my chance and I took it.”

“I’m not angry with you, Dean. I’m just trying to understand what I could have done that would have made you do something so drastic.” Cas pulled on his shirt, the fabric rubbing rough against his newly formed scars. “Sam is still alive. That’s the only thing I can think of. What else could I possibly…”

Cas ran his eyes over Dean’s body, taking in the way he stood, off-center in a way the hunter never was, a wince of pain in his eyes. “Dean, what did I do?”

Dean’s eyes hardened and he stepped into Cas’s space. Newly human, Cas was no threat to Dean, a few inches smaller and no real physical training. Part of Dean wanted to wail on him, take out all his rage and pain and betrayal. The worst part was he knew Cas would let him, would just take any beating Dean dished out, even without knowing what had happened.

“What did I do?” Cas whispered.

“The worst thing you could have. The one way you could betray me that I never conceived of.”

“Did I force you to…”

A tear dripped down Dean’s cheek and it was all Cas could do to keep from reaching out to wipe it away. The look of agony on Dean’s face cut right through him.

“No, not at first.”

“Oh my God,” Cas sat back down on the bed. “Not at first… but eventually…”

“Yeah, yeah. At some point, it changed; it got… rough.” Dean turned his head, his long neck straining to get further away

“Oh God,” Cas crumpled into himself, holding his head in his hands again. “I don’t remember. I didn’t know. I don’t remember. I’m… Oh…” His voice broke and he looked up at Dean, wishing the man would meet his eyes. “I am so sorry, Dean.”

Dean nodded, still not looking at him. “I know that, Cas. Like I said, it’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. The branch didn’t do this anymore on purpose than the chair did, but we have to destroy it. Focus on that.”

“How? How do I focus on anything but what I’ve done to you?” Cas looked at Dean and his heart dropped to the floor, smashing into a million pieces. “And here I am making it worse by trying to force you to talk about it, by looking for comfort when you’re the one who should be comforted.”

“It’s okay, Cas. You wanted to know. I guess you deserved to know why I would clip your wings. It’s not like that’s not a life-changing thing I did to you without you agreeing to it.” 

“My consent hardly matters in the face of what you’ve been through.”

Dean nodded and pushed off from where he was leaning against the wall. “Let’s go regroup with the others. We still have to destroy the branch and fill you in on everything else that’s happened.

Cas watched as Dean winced, opening the door and taking his first steps, but the man waited, looked back, and held out his hand for Cas. An offering Cas didn’t deserve, but that he took like a lifeline.

  
  



	17. Where does the Fault Lie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel discovers the things he never wanted to know

As soon as Cas stepped into the kitchen, Sam stood up, took two strides toward him, reared back, and punched him in the face with all the strength and training a 6’4” legacy hunter was capable of. 

Cas dropped Dean’s hand and slunk against the wall.

Sam grabbed him by the shirt, holding him up by pressing painfully against the tiles at Cas’s back and pulled back to deliver another blow.

“Sam, stop!” Dean yelled, trying to put himself between the now-former angel and his brother, pulling on the giant’s arm with both hands. “Let him go. He doesn’t even remember!”

Eileen rushed forward, prying Sam’s fingers off Cas’s shirt and pulling the dark-haired man to the table. She sat him down and signed in a rush, only speaking every fourth or fifth word.

In the background, Dean and Sam shouted about Cas, about the branch, about what Dean had done by taking his grace. But he couldn’t hear any of it.

Castiel shook his head, taking the napkin Eileen offered to try and stop the blood flowing from his nose. His cheek had split open from the impact of knuckles against bone and his head rang. He tried to focus on Eileen who stared at him soundlessly, her hands whipping wildly in front of him.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry, Fuck you,” Sam said from the other side of the room where Dean was still trying to talk him down.

Castiel sent a sad look over his shoulder and turned back to Eileen, placing his hands on top of hers to still them. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I don’t understand. I can’t… I don’t understand anymore.”

Eileen’s face fell, crest-fallen. “It’s okay, Cas.” she verbalized but the sadness in her eyes didn’t match.

“¿Puedes entenderme?” Sister Veronica asked from where she stood in silence, still dressed in Dean’s clothing.

Cas’s face fell and he reached his hand out toward her. “No. I… I don’t know what you said. It’s all gone.”

She rushed to his side, cradling his head against her chest as he began to cry. For the first time, he felt the loss of his grace acutely, the loss of his identity and purpose. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam seethed. “You’re holding his hand as you walk in here and now you’re consoling him? I can’t believe any of you. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten what he’s done.

“He wasn’t himself,” Dean said.

“So all is forgiven, Dean, he ra--”

Dean cut him off. “All is not forgiven. Everything isn’t okay. But he’s human now. He’s not the same and he’s not under the influence of the branch anymore okay. We have to focus on what to do with that thing.”

“I can’t even look at him,” Sam ground his teeth together.

“I understand, Sam.” Castiel stood. “I meant my offer to leave. I’ll take my phone so you can reach me if you need me, but I don’t want to cause any of you any more pain.”

“And where will you go, dumbass?” Dean asked. “You don’t exist. No ID, no money, no idea how to survive. Are you going to be homeless and live under a bridge? How do you plan on even charging that phone?”

“It’s no worse than I deserve.”

“It’s no worse than… Jesus. You’re such a fucking martyr. What about what I deserve?”

“What?” Cas quirked his head in confusion.

“Is that what I deserve? After all of this. After standing by you and fighting for you and everything we went through to be together? Do I deserve for you to just fucking leave? Do I deserve to spend all my time wondering if you’re safe? If you’re even alive?” Dean took a deep breath. “Now I wanna fucking hit you.”

“Oh,” Cas sat back down.

“You have to stop thinking about just the situation in front of you. About how to take all the responsibility on yourself in the most drastic way possible. There’s a lot going on and we have to deal with all of it and we have to deal with it together.” Dean sat across from him at the table and reached out both hands. “Okay?”

Castiel looked around him, waiting until he received a terse nod from Sam, and then took Dean’s hands and nodded. “Okay.”

Dean, Sam, Eileen, Castiel, and Sister Veronica sat around the table in silence. At some point, Sam got up and made everyone coffee. Time had stopped having meaning and coffee seemed like a reasonable choice no matter what time of day it was. 

Dean tapped his foot on top of Cas’s to get his attention, but the other man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Sam finally cleared his throat and tapped Eileen on the back of the hand to get her attention. “So, let’s start with what we know. Cas, Dean said you don’t remember… what happened.”

Castiel shook his head and stared at his hands in his laps.

“But you remember the battle at the chappel.”

“Yes, although there are some blank spots even before then.”

“How far back?” Sam asked, his studious problem-solving face one. Dean said he looked constipated, but Cas always thought he looked a little like Sherlock Holmes.

“I guess…”

“He doesn’t remember things from the first day he was back in the Jimmy Novack suit.” Dean blurted out, a smoldering of cruelty behind his eyes.

“What about with Sister Veronica?”

“Um, I don’t know, we’d have to compare notes but, I don’t think so.”

“I haven’t noticed any blank spots in my memory,” the nun piped up.

“Then perhaps the branch was able to reach you without you touching it because there was no soul in your vessel to kept you balanced,” Sam said, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug.

“That makes sense, as angels, our grace is the closest thing to a soul we have, but as you know, we are not our grace and can exist without it in a way you cannot exist without your soul.”

“Well, yeah, we can. I mean, I did.” Sam shrugged.

“In a way, but you were completely different. Your personality, your morality, you were a shell without your soul. Me, I’m the same, I think and feel the same without it. I’ve been here before. I know others who have fallen in this way. Angels without grace are simply human.”

Dean yawned and stretched, booking up at the clock on the wall. “I need to sleep. I’m sure Cas needs to sleep too even if he doesn’t realize it. I say we call it a night and pick up with research in the morning.”

Everyone agreed, and Dean didn’t miss sending his brother a wink when he noticed him take Eileen’s hand in his own large one and lead her down the hall to his room. He wanted to heckle, make that red color warm up his neck, but decided they’d all been through enough for one day.

At the door to his room, Cas slowed and looked at the wall behind Dean’s head. “Good night, Dean.”

“What?” Dean reached out and took Castiel’s hand in his own. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To my room.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Sister Veronica is sleeping in your room.”

“Oh,” Cas looked down at his feet, his hand limp in Dean’s hold. “Then I can sleep in one of the recliners in the Dean Cave.”

Dean let out a deep sigh. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He opened his door and dragged Castiel inside, pushing him further in before closing the door. “You sleep here.”

“Dean, I would never impose myself on you like that. You can’t possibly want to share a bed with me after the things I’ve done. I can barely stand to be in the same room as me.” Castiel had tears in his eyes, shimmering and sparkling like distant explosions. “I know it does nothing to ease your pain or change what I’ve done, but I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know, Cas. And we’re never going to get through this if you run away, so stop trying. The only thing I can’t deal with is you disappearing on me. Stay here. We’ll just sleep. But stay with me.”

Castiel perched gently on the edge of the bed and clasped his hands on his lap. “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Dean asked, pulling off his jeans and slipping into pajama pants. 

The simplicity of it gutting Cas with how much he loves his hunter.

“I don’t understand how you could want me here.”

“Because I get it. Man, we’ve been through the fucking ringer. We’ve seen shit other people could never imagine. Have I ever given up on you? Even when you tried to become God, even when I was an actual Demon Knight of Hell, and so much worse. I’ve never given up on you and you’ve never given up on me.

This shit we’re dealing with now, yeah, it was worse. But I’m not giving up on you for something out of your control. I forgive you.”

Castiel shook his head, tears falling down his cheeks and splashing into an ocean of regret. “I don’t.”

“That’s okay, we have time.” Dean placed a kiss on Castiel’s forehead and handed him a pair of cotton pants to change into before pulling off his flannel and climbing into bed.

Castiel changed and then stood, staring at the spot Dean had left open for him. The bed was small. Too small for two grown men unless they slept completely entangled. “I can sleep on the floor if that would be more comfortable for you. I won’t go anywhere, I promise, but I also don’t want to… Dean don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Dean rolled toward him with a sleepy smile. “Will you turn off the light and get into bed, dumbass? I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t mean it.”

“If you find it’s upsetting--”

“--I will tell you.”

“You must promise me. You must promise to tell me if my presence or anything I do is upsetting to you. I could not bear to bring you more pain.”

“Cas, please, come to bed.”

“Not until you promise.”

Dean sat up with a winch and a soft groan and ran his hand over his mouth. “I can’t promise you there won’t ever be anything that bothers me. And some of those things I’m going to need to work through on my own, that’s just how this has to work. But I promise if I feel unsafe or afraid I’ll tell you.”

“I’d prefer you tell me everything.”

“I know you would, but that’s not realistic. And honestly, it’s more of you being a martyr. You can’t fix this and you can’t fix me. All you can do is be here, okay?”

Castiel nodded and turned off the light, taking his time to settle into the bed next to Dean, but staying as close to the edge as possible.

“Dumbass,” Dean said, rolling over and pulling Cas up against his chest.

Castiel fell asleep quickly, the warmth of Dean swallowing him up and soothing his heart and mind. A kindness he knew he wasn’t worthy of but which he was too selfish to give up, and maybe it was okay to listen to Dean, to believe that what the man said he wanted was real.

His dreams had no such illusions. Images filled his dreaming mind, threatening Sam, wrapping his hand around Dean’s neck, the agony of feeling the artifact’s pull on him, the pleasure of being inside Dean, of needing to own him completely, the impact of his hand against Dean’s face.

He sat up, sweat-drenched and hoarse. A warmth was curled against his side, running fingers through his hair.

Castiel turned to find Dean staring at him with soft eyes. 

“You okay now?”

“Dean, take off your shirt.” He demanded.

Dean flushed, even in the dim light peeking in under the door, Castiel could see his resistance.

“I need to see.”

“You really don’t.”

“Dean…” Castiel pleaded, knowing it was the only card he could play that Dean might concede to. If he tried to force the man, there would be no way he’d give in, but softness, softness was something Dean had no resistance to. He’d had so little of it in his life.

“You were just having a bad dream.”

“Dean, I was remembering. Please take off your shirt. If there’s anything there I haven’t seen already, I want to know. I need to know if what I dreamed was true.”

“It was.” Dean held his eyes.

“Show me.” Cas leaned over and turned on the bedside light.

Dean sighed and reached for the hem of his shirt. “Why do you want to do this to yourself?”

“Dean, show me.”

Dean grabbed his shirt by the back of the neck and pulled it off in one sweep, his ribs aching and the groan in his body unable to be silenced.

Castiel’s eyes moved over him, the fingerprints still bruised along his ribs, the greenish yellow around his neck, the ripped flesh, like someone’s…his nails had ripped into his shoulders and upper arms. And a handprint.

He reached up and placed his hand over the mark. “I thought this had healed.”

“It had,” Dean whispered into the space between them. “And then you put it back.”

“Was this when I…”

“No, this was at the motel. Do you remember?” 

“No,” Cas shook his head, hand falling to the bed.

“I expected you to be upset about the bruises.” Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“I am. Please don’t doubt that.” Cas looked up into Dean’s infernally green eyes. “Did you consent to this?”

Dean nodded.

“You understand it?” Castiel tilted his head, terrified that he had somehow tricked the man he loved more than his own existence into something of such magnitude.

“I think so. You told me it was our connection, but this time it went all the way to my soul and wouldn’t ever heal.”

“What does that mean to you.”

“Cas, what are you getting at. You’re being cagey again and you know that drives me fucking insane. Just spit it out.”

Castiel ran his fingers lovingly along the mark, his eyes filling with tears. “It’s a soul bond. For angels, it means that when their human dies, they will go to their heaven as well, to spend eternity together. It’s more profound that any marriage, than any commitment humanity knows of. I would have expected it to fade when I lost my grace.”

“No, my soul is still yours.” Dean said with open honesty. “What it means for us now, I don’t know, but I’m still yours if you still want me.”

“Dean,” Castiel breathed and the hunter came forward, dropping a soft kiss on his angel’s lips. “I love you.”

“I know,” Dean smirked, kissing him firmly, but chastely.

Cas turned the light off and took off his own shirt, wanting to feel Dean’s skin against his if nothing else, but when the hunter brought their lips together in a lingering kiss, Cas couldn’t resist. The voice in the back of his mind told him he didn’t deserve this softness; he didn’t deserve any part of Dean after what he’d done

But instead of deciding for Dean, he used his fingers to gently touch every bruise and injury, a silent apology as he infused his fingers with all the love he felt. He dropped closed mouth kisses onto Dean’s eyes, licked along his neck and pulling a soft moan from the other man’s lips.

He kissed and nibbled at the handprint until Dean’s hands came around his shoulders, short, blunt nails digging into his flesh. Castiel didn’t think he’d ever felt so real.

“I love you,” he mumbled against Deans skin, kissing his way across his broad chest, licking at every fingerprint and bruise as if he could love them out of existence.

When he reached Dean’s waist, he kissed the skin next to his hipbones and pulled himself back up. 

Dean panted, his breath stolen from his lungs. “Castiel,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around the man and pulling him closer, but when he tried to lift his leg to bring Cas between his own, he hissed in pain.

“That’s enough for tonight,” Cas smiled, his hands running down Dean’s body, soothing and warm.

Dean pouted against Cas’s lips. “I want more,” he moaned before licking his lower lip. “I want all of you.”

“No, Dean. I won’t risk hurting you, and what you want now is comfort, not sex, and I can give you that in other ways.” He ran his fingers down Dean’s back. “I couldn’t live with myself if I caused you any more pain.”

“How are you so good to me?” Dean asked, cupping Cas’s face.

“You’re more than just a pretty face,” Castiel teased, nuzzling Dean and then pulling him against his chest. “Even if I’m only human, I will protect you however is necessary. I will love you with all that I am. Just as I’ve done since the first moment I saw you in hell.”

Dean sighed and snuggled in closer, allowing himself this moment of peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as a reward for working on something else, so help keep me inspired and motivated by leaving me a note with your thoughts! Thanks for reading :)


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